


Burned Beyond Recognition

by Crosses_and_Qoutes



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Fight Club - Freeform, Fight Dogs, Fighting, Gen, Kidnapping, Past Mentions of Abuse, Scars, Violence, homeless, past mentions of animal abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-11
Updated: 2016-03-10
Packaged: 2018-05-26 00:33:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 39,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6216487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crosses_and_Qoutes/pseuds/Crosses_and_Qoutes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He was a Beast of a Boy. Scars that crisscrossed his body and teeth too sharp and claws too long, Scorch had been burned beyond recognition. Except somebody can recognize them. Somebody who would recognize his blonde hair anywhere.</p>
<p>As Harry digs deeper into the mysterious disappearance of Draco Malfoy and Astoria Greengrass, it unfolds into a monster of case that makes him question the limits of magic and the aftermath of Wizarding War II.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everybody. Well, this is a story that I've been working on for a few months now. It started as a way to stay distracted and it developed into this, well, monster of a story that quite frankly I really enjoyed writing. 
> 
> So, Burned Beyond Recognition is a labor of love that is close to 40,000 words. I've tried cutting the chapters down a bit so it's easier to read. I might continue this series at a later date, but as for now, I think I'm going to work on some past stories that I've been looking back on. 
> 
> So, enjoy, if you could give some criticism or any advice I would be more than willing to listen. Thanks!

Harry watched over silently as they cuffed one of the criminals, a David Bowley, for the theft out of the Owlery. Apparently they got a shipment of rare owls, the miniature Peochey, or something like that, and they could go a pretty penny on the black market. Though the owls didn’t agree, Harry could kind of see it.

He supposed their feathers would have looked good in a ladies hat.

Too bad it was the muggle black market.

And honestly, that meant so much more paperwork for him. His eyes strayed over the street, shifting uncomfortably in the suit his robes were illusioned in. He just wanted to sit down in his office, get the stupid forms filled out, and go home and see him family. Was that so much to ask? Something caught the corner of his eye, a grubby sweatshirt flitting just out of sight. He looked up. There was a teenager, just across the way, a worn cardboard sign leaning against his leg, a hungry traveling sack beside him.

_Homeless_

_Need Food_

_Please Help_

Harry’s eyes saddened, taking in the threadbare jeans and oversized hoodie, a beanie pulled taunt around the thin head. There was usually plenty of people here, but the police looking men, aka Ron, Himself, and a few other ‘agents’, had all scared them  off. He walked forward, digging in his pocket for the pounds he kept there, just in case. He could at least buy dinner for the kid, after disturbing his day. He leaned down, placing the pound in a tin can.

“Sorry I can’t-“ but his sentence was cut off. Blonde hair snaked out from underneath the black beanie, striking silver eyes staring at him. That nose. That pointed chin.

“Malfoy?” He uttered.

It was like a switch had gone off. The kid’s eyes widened and he shoved the pack at him, knocking him on his back. He broke down the street like the hounds of hell were on him.

“Malfoy!” He yelled, dumping the bag and pursuing after him. The Draco Malfoy had gone missing a year and a half after the war. The day that Draco finished confessing every detail he knew, he had disappeared with his wife. Clothes, a few books, and photographs was all that had been packed. He had left behind his family, his name, and what little fortune was left. It had been placed under security by the aurors, but that didn’t change the fact that the heir of Malfoy was missing. There had been rumors, of course. Draco Malfoy were dead. He was running a mafia in America. Draco Malfoy was planning the return of Voldemort again.

Apparently, the Malfoy’s had a son.

He twisted around the corner, jumping over a thrown can, when he felt Ron come up behind him.

“What the bloody hell, Harry!” He screamed, easily keeping up. Ron had come with him as back up, in case the thieves had tried anything worse, like pulling an unforgivable at anyone.

“Malfoy!” He gasped, but that was good enough for him, sprinting faster. He stumbled over the overturned stack of crates, some grocery stores supplies.

The kid looked he was weaving, trying to get them lost in the alleys. He was doing a pretty good damn job of it too. They barely saw him twist around the corner. They skidded, trailing behind.

“Damn! What is this kid in, track?” Ron asked. This place was starting to look familiar. Had he gone in a circle? No, Hermione had said something about this place? What was it? The kid looked behind him, not seeing the wall in front of him. Harry and Ron sped up. He would run into it, shake off, and they would grab him in that half second of surprise.

Except, he went right through.

Harry and Ron startled at that, slowing for a whole second. How had he…? It didn’t matter. They ran through too.

Gringotts. It was a wall from Gringotts. It must have been some leftover portal from the muggle-fearing days. Hermione had mentioned it, noticing the shimmer. Asked them to check it out. Well, it was definitely there. The black hoodie tore through the streets, closer than Harry would have thought. The kid hadn’t known about it either. He had paused, coming in. They wouldn’t make the same mistake. Ron sprinted forward, pulling out his wand. He was allowed to do magic now. All he would need is a stunning spell. Harry did the same.

The kid always kept out of line though, ducking behind cars, people, and tipping over fake wands, or potions, their effects pouring into the streets. Smoke and sparks filled the air, shrieks of surprise thumping the air. Dang this kid was good. He finally detangled himself from the chaos, just in time to see Ron tackle him into the doorway of Weasley’s Wheezes. He yanked the door open to see George holding the bucking teen and Ron held back by Angelina.

He winced as a boot kicked Ron square in the jaw, blood splattering on the floor.

“Hey! Knock it off!” George yelled, pulling the arms tighter. It only seemed to infuriate the teen more, yanking and struggling any way he could. People backed away into the aisles, Roxanne trying to reassure the panicked customers. Finally, Harry landed a partial stunning spell, at least from the legs up. That was good enough. He just didn’t want the kid running again. He glanced at Ron, but he was already patching himself, grumbling about how he didn’t know that teeth could even bruise. Harry leaned down, sliding the beanie off his head. The hair was cropped short, uneven, and there were several scars on the sides, but there was no mistaking that face.

“Malfoy. Is that your last name?” He asked, out of breath.

Their foreheads collided with a crunch, eyes glaring murder at him.

 

* * *

 

 

“Look Ginny, I’m really sorry, but I will be home in time for supper. Something…unexpected came up.”

He glanced at the little blond menace, finally in cuffs. Well, two pairs of cuffs. One for his hands, the other for his feet, a shackle around his throat so he couldn’t reach out and head butt anybody, straps around his upper arms, and chest. Oh, and his lap. And the chair magiced to the floor. Because apparently you could buck hard enough to knock your chair over and send it on to someone.

“Well, what is it?” she asked. He could hear the exasperation, but understanding too. She had known what she was getting into when she signed up to be an Auror’s wife.

“I’ll have to tell you when I get home. Love you.” He said, and hung up the phone. Shacklebolt was giving him that look. The come into my office look.

He walked in, sitting expectantly in the chair.

“Well, is he?”

“That is not a boy. That is a pack of wolves enfolded into one teenager. But yes, he is certainly Draco Malfoy’s son. We tried talking to him, but he just tightens his smug little jaw. He even had the audacity to spit on Elric’s face.” Harry held back a chuckle for that. Elric was a prick and everyone in the firm knew it. “I don’t know what he’s expecting, but it’s nothing good. No wand from what we can see, but that pack he threw at you was filled with Malfoy’s old school books.” There was a pause as both of them processed the information.

“Where did you say you found this kid again?” Shacklebolt asked.

“A couple of blocks from the Leaky Cauldron.”

“With a homeless sign?”

“Yea, he certainly looked the part.” Harry said. What if he had just been waiting for Harry and Ron to leave, so he could sneak into Diagon alley?

“He’s more than the part. You can’t fake that kind of mal-nutrition, or the calluses on his hands and knuckles. That kind of rough and tumble is taught, and certainly real, if he’s fighting skills are anything to say. I believe if he knew where he was, he would have ran out like the hounds of Hell were on him.”

“What makes you say that sir?” he said, shifting slightly.

“I doubt you noticed in your little chase, but the boy panics at the sight of magic, specifically green we think.” He furrowed his eyes, almost looking sad. “I know you noticed that the boy was making good headway and both of you, could have gotten away. Once Auror Weasley tackled him into Weasley’s Wheezes, a green sparkler went off in his face. George said he went bloody mad after that. I raised mine to cast a light charm, get a better look at those scars and he nearly popped his arms out of place, trying to move that chair.”

“Me and Ron didn’t have our wands at first.” He defended. How could a Malfoy be scared of magic? They took pride in their ‘pure-blood’ history.

“I believe that was because you said his last name, well, his real last name, on sight.” He pulled out a thick manila folder, sliding towards the messy haired officer.

“He’s been going by Martin Telson. He was listed down as a run away from an orphanage.”

“Martin Telson? Doesn’t sound anything like Malfoy.”

Weren’t Malfoy’s all about pride and honor to the family?

“We’ve all tried talking to the kid. Get his real name, what happened to him, anything really, but he’s been tight lipped. It’s your turn.” Shacklebolt said, heaving himself from his desk.

“What could I possibly do that you haven’t yet?” He asked, walking out the door with him.

“I don’t know Potter, but you have a way with kids. Good luck!” He tossed over his shoulder. Harry turned towards the chair they had him in, those grey eyes glaring daggers.

Right. How to do this…

He grabbed the keys off of his desk, warily staring at the angry shaved mess of platinum blond hair.

“Telson? Is that what you would prefer to be called?” he asked. The teen glared, but shook his head. No? Ok, bit complicated. He pulled his wand out, seeing those eyes narrow, shaking in there sockets. Shacklebolt was right. This Malfoy was either afraid of magic, or just green magic, he couldn’t be sure. He laid it down on the desk, trying to stop his own panic at letting it go.

“I won’t use magic, okay? But you have to promise not to bolt. Otherwise I’m going to have to cast another stunning spell.” He stopped a moment, hands hovering over the locks. “I just want to talk. If you don’t want to talk about it, tell me, and I’ll try to avoid it. If you don’t know, just say, and that’s perfectly fine.” He watched his eyes. They were getting softer, well, less hostile, as he spoke. The limbs were coiled as he undid the locks. But the boy didn’t move. Okay. There was a tense moment when he had to undo the shackle around his neck. He looked closer in the shadows of the hoodie.

Were those bruises around his throat?

The teen jumped out from the chair, but didn’t run. He got behind the chair, rubbing his tender neck. Putting distance between the two of them. Harry respected that, and backed away, gesturing to a chair a little ways off. He decided that doing this across his desk probably wasn’t a good idea. It looked like the kid had problems with authority.

The boy sat down warily, tugging on the beanie again.

“Scorch.” He mumbled, not looking Harry in the eye. His voice as rough as a chain smokers.

“Pardon?” he said, picking up ‘Martin Telson’s’ folder and laying it across his lap.

“I prefer Scorch.”

“Alright, Scorch. My name is Harry Potter.” Ah, that got a reaction. So Draco had talked about his schooling at some point and about him. The teen – Scorch- slumped in his chair a bit, hands loosening into a gentle fist. He would have expected him to put his defense up at his name, considering how much they had hated each other. He looked over some of the questions that the others had tried asking.

“Why did you run when I said your name?”

“Instinct.”

“Instinct?”

“Dad said that if anyone ever called me Malfoy, to deny it as much as you could, or to run for the hills. It meant that they were a wizard and were probably trying to get us. You recognized me on sight, no questions, so I ditched the first option and ran.” There was a pause as he collected his thoughts. “And for your next question, If I knew where my parents were, I sure as Hades wouldn’t be here. They were kidnapped when I was 8.”

That…was a lot more than he was expecting. And not ‘Father’, as Draco had referred to his, but Dad, a very personal, familiar tone.

“Kidnapped?” He reached for a pad and quill, just barely remembering not to magic the thing over. It would have been easier for the quill to do the work while they talked, but he was gaining Scorch’s trust.

“Yea, a couple of guys came stormed into the house, but Mom saw them coming, hid me in the hallway closet. Apparently the black hooded morons didn’t notice the toys and stuff on the floor or didn’t care, because they grabbed my parents and ran out the door.”

“And you were left, forcing CPS to come pick you up.”

He huffed, a hard smirk springing on his face. “Hell no, I packed up what I thought I needed and ran out as soon as the bills started piling in the door. Eventually CPS picked me up, but not for another year or so afterwards.”

He nodded, writing down various notes. Black hooded could mean ex deatheaters, or followers of the long dead Voldemort. The fact that they had no idea about Scorch just showed that they hadn’t done taken the time to do basic research. Kid was obviously smart, avoiding CPS, or they were like the CPS that came to Pivot Drive and saw that he was getting fed and left. And he could take care of himself at a young age. Ok. There was still major questions about what exactly happened at the Malfoy house, but he would have to see the place for himself.

“Alright, we’ll open a case.” He vaguely saw Scorch’s eyes roll, his jaw grinding down with a snap.

“I’ll need your actual name, for the records.”

“Malfoy. Scorch. That’s all you need."

Harry, all though off put by Mal-Scorch’s sudden turn of attitude, went and reported everything that he learned to Shacklebolt. His boss said nothing as he talked, and only raised his eyebrows after he was done.

“It’s not much, but it’s a hell of a lot more than we expected. So, Draco Malfoy and his wife, Astoria Greengrass, presumably, were kidnapped around…7 years ago? We’ll go by the house and see if there’s anything left. There is the question of why he opened up to you, however.”

"Don't know, didn't ask. I was just happy that he said anything at all, from what you were telling me.” Harry shifted a bit in his seat, Shacklebolt staring ahead of him unblinkingly, thinking. The only question now was where to put the kid?

“We can’t let him back into muggle London.” Shacklebolt muttered. The air had a stillness to it that was all too familiar.

“Normally, we would send them to Malfoy Manner or the Greengrass’s, but because of the role they held in Voldemort’s army, we can’t send any child there for residence, not even their grandson. But I can’t think of any house that would accept a Malfoy.” He crossed his arms, his eyebrows furrowing in thought. It was risky to set him in a hotel or anything like that. If the boy could live a year without CPS finding him at 8, escaping from a hotel would be child’s play. There wasn’t any other family members were there?

Shacklebolt’s face darkened with a frown, realization dawning on him.

“Teddy. Teddy is the son of Tonks and Remus, who was Draco Malfoy’s aunt. Their cousins. He is the only family left.”

Harry felt panic swell in him, nearly toppling the chair over.

“No! Teddy just turned 19! He’s not equipped to handle a normal child, much less a pissed off teenager. Don’t get me wrong, he’s great with his Albus and the others, but Scorch is a completely different case.”

Shacklebolt came around the desk, and settled into the chair beside Harry. He placed a worn hand on his shoulder, rubbing his thumb over the tightened muscles in-between his neck.

“We can’t legally do anything else. Andromeda can’t take care of a kid in her state, Teddy’s the only other option. Besides, it’s not as if he’d be alone. I know you. You would be there to help him, you’re as invested in this as anyone. Besides, you’re the only one he would even talk to. I know this is a lot to ask of him, but unless Teddy gives permission to someone else that is trusted in the courts, we don’t have any other options. ”

Harry slumped over, rubbing his hands over his hair, making the already messy tresses even worse than before.

“Exactly, I’m the only one he would talk to…What if me and Ginny set up a room? Scorch has shown some trust towards me, and he couldn’t be safer anywhere else. I’d be able to keep an eye on him as well as work the case.”

Shacklebolt nodded. “That could work. Still, he would have to stay for at least a few days before hand until you had a proper place set up.”

“Of course. Ok, let me talk to Teddy and try to explain what the hell is going on. I’ll also get ahold of Ginny. Scorch and Albus are the same age, and around the same size. Some of his hand-me-down’s might fit.” It brought back memories of Dudley’s too big clothing swimming on his hips, clamping down belts to try and fit them. That feeling of second hand clinging to him long after he got proper clothes. But it was the best he could do, for now anyway.

Harry stood up, shaking himself mentally. This was going to be a stressful day.

 

* * *

 

Harry flooed over to Teddy’s place, the Grimmuald place that he lived in during the war. The green fire sparked for a moment as he stepped out from the fireplace. He smiled at the small changes he could see. Teddy had taken over the place after Harry had bequeathed it to him, using it as a safe house to foster dogs and live in until he figured out what he really wanted to do. He was Ginny’s assistant right now, slowly moving up and writing his own articles. He had changed a lot, with new couches and the distinct lack of a screeching paining upstairs. He dodged over one of the many dog beds, offering a few treats to the rough looking Doberman asleep in it.  

“Teddy!”

A blue pop of hair turned turquoise as Teddy saw his god-father, barreling into him. If there was one thing that Harry loved about his godson, is that he still retained the same excitement that he had as a kid.

“Uncle Harry! What are you doing here? I was coming to supper on Saturday, same as always. Just making dessert ahead of time. I know how much Lily likes my Puppy Chow.”

Harry chuckled, taking a seat at the bar. “That she does. But that’s not why I’m here.”

Teddy sat down, sensing the change in the air. “Sure, sure, what’s going on?”

Harry sighed, and started from the beginning of the morning through the past couple of hours. Teddy listened patiently, sitting down and wiping his hands of powdered sugar.

“You’re the last guardian that the courts can legally appoint him to. However, he would be living with us, once we can get a room made.” Harry finished.

Teddy had been strangely silent throughout his story, eyes darting every which way.

“Uncle Harry…this kid sounds really…hurt. Really broken. I mean, I remember the stories that you sometimes told us about your time with the Dursley’s. I can’t even imagine what he’s gone through…How am I supposed to help him exactly?”

Harry rubbed the back of his neck, not exactly sure himself.

“I don’t know yet, but we’ll figure it out. In the mean time, I’m going to bring him to dinner in a few days and we’ll see from there. I think he just needs a couple of days to adjust, somewhere quiet. But I will be coming in everyday to check on both of you.”

He helped him pack the ‘Puppy Chow’ before he left, an idea striking him suddenly.

“You wouldn’t happen to still have those beanies from your Hogwarts days, would you?”

Teddy nodded, running upstairs and grabbing the plain hats. Some of them were the classic Hufflepuff colors, others just plain with the Hogwarts patch stitched on the side.

“He hasn’t taken his off since we found him, but it needs to be washed. Maybe if I give a temporary replacement, he’ll be willing for a trade.”

By the time that he arrived back at the office, Ginny was waiting for him with a few pairs of jeans and a couple of shirts, along with a bag of other essentials.

“I figured I would bring options. What’s going on?”

Harry motioned her along to the washrooms, where Ron was keeping watch.

Harry gave her the short version, trying not to make it seem like it was as much of a big deal as it was. Ginny looked as if she had more questions but chose to ask later. Ron perked up at the sight of her, hugging her tightly.

“Gin, he kicked me in the mouth.” He whined. Ginny only laughed, saying he probably deserved it.

“Scorch, I’m coming in.” Harry yelled before entering the locker room. He was a bit perplexed to find that the room was fairly cold already, the shower long since done with. Didn’t waste any time did he?

Scorch was hunched over on the steel bench, leaning precariously on his knees by his elbows. For the first time, Harry got a good look at the teen hidden underneath the baggy clothes. Mainly, a good look at the expanse of scars.

A few he could recognize right away. Kitchen oil burns on his hands and wrists, cigarette burns dotting his arms and shoulders, blending into the smattering of moles that continued up his neck and face. He’s torso was more severe, places where he had been stabbed, something along his left side that looked like shrapnel from an explosion. More notably, was the multitude of scars on his head from what he could only guess were gin and beer bottles. They could be healed over easily with magic, but without…

“Get a good enough look? Or should I turn a bit?” He asked, not even turning his head.

“You need to get those looked at.” He muttered, handing him the clothing. His silver eyes widened a bit, looking through them before pulling on the underwear and pants and layering the shirts. Well, that wasn’t exactly what they had in mind, but ok.

“I need my hat.” He said, referring to the clothes that were taken.

“Brought a replacement. Hope you don’t mind gray.”

Scorch tugged it on. If he noticed or even cared about the Hogwarts patch, he didn’t say.

“Well, where you dropping me at? Hotel? Safe House?” He pulled on the patched boots, refusing the more comfortable shoes that Ginny had brought.

“Your cousin’s house. You’ll be staying there for a little bit until we can get a room set up at my own place.”

Scorch turned towards him, his mouth twisted into a line. “Excuse me?”

“You’ll be staying with Teddy Lupin, you cousin, until we can clear off a spot at my house. Teddy is only 19, not really experienced when it comes to teenagers. I, on the other hand, have three. We’ll get you a space cleared out and then move you there. Teddy has a few strays living with him though. You alright with dogs?”

He shook his head, chuckling a bit. “Oh yea, they love me.”

They walked out and Scorch seemed to relax a bit more, until one of the auror’s used the Floo network and the green flames shot out. Scorch’s jaw clenched, he’s hands clutching his jacket.

“Maybe a side-along apparition would be best?” Ginny asked, noting he’s discomfort. “Do you know what that is?”

“No mamn.” He listened as she explained, apprehensive, but not objecting.

“Why does she get a ‘mamn’?” Ron asked, using himself as an example of how apparition worked, and promising to come over later. Scorch jumped a bit at the sudden disappearance, but seemed to prefer it over the Floo network.

They dropped him off at the Grimmauld place, Teddy waiting anxiously on the back porch.

“We’ll be back in a few days. Listen to Teddy, we’ll get working on the case, and I’ll let you know what we know when we meet up for family dinner on Friday. Deal?”

Scorch said nothing, looking at him blankly before walking towards Teddy and introducing himself.

Ginny squeezed his hand, and they both went home. If he hugged his kids a bit tighter than usual, well, nobody minded too much.


	2. Chapter 2

He doesn’t waste any time, going to the last address that Scorch given him the next day. He wasn’t too surprised to find it in a muggle neighborhood. Malfoy didn’t want to be found and nobody was going to look for him in a muggle city. It made sense.

But really, this is what he had replaced the grand and magnificent Malfoy Manor for?

It was a modest house, much the same size as the Dursley’s had been, with a faded green door and darker trimmings on the side, the paint chipping all around. It had fallen to the typical pranks of children, graffiti on the sides, and the garage had definitely been opened, but fairy recently. He felt around a bit with his magic, easily feeling the echoes of magic chiming back faintly to him. Wards, more than likely, but without reinforcement they had faded to small sparks. He pushed a bit, but no hexes or jinxes came back, only a small confusion charm. He dismissed them with a short motion of his hand, taking a closer look at the porch. The welcoming mat was askew, the wooden rocking chair on the porch smelled faintly of rot, but that was expected.

Testing the door knob sent off another echo of a confusion charm, strengthened with a blood incantation. Draco had set up the entire place to deter anybody except family, so whoever had come in either knew how to dispel the charm, which was an advanced level of training, or were somebody that Draco and Astoria trusted.

Harry stepped through the doorway, pulling his robes a bit closer in the chill of the house. It would be a bit more difficult to find anything useful. Scorch had technically disturbed the crime scene when he had stayed as a child, but there still might be a few hints that would give Harry a clue as to what they were looking for.

Turning to the left was a living room, the paint on the walls a bright silver with the same dark trimmings as the door. He noted that the only piece of modern technology was a stereo system.

“Hermione would love her place like this…” he muttered.

 The walls were lined with large bookcases, each one filled to the brim. It covered a wide variety of subjects, touching on psychology, mathematics, and history. Other books were clearly magic teaching books about charms, incantations, and transfiguration. The couch, situated in the corner, looked well used, with plenty of pillows and blankets strewn about. A pair of golden reading glasses were still on top of an unmarked book. Harry noted that there were several books missing as well, sections with a thick layer of dust. He would have to check back over that pack that Scorch had thrown at him and see if they were there. 

A quick look into the gold and blue kitchen, just to the side of the living room, showed no dishes in the sink, and the food had been cleared out, if the lack of smell was anything to go by. There were even still a few lip lock bags on the counter. Scorch packing up before CPS could get him, no doubt. He returned to the hallway and walked down a bit more.

This was clearly where the fight had commenced. The table was overthrown, a broken vase lying helplessly on the floor. Several picture frames which had been hanging on the wall were smashed onto the wood as well, their glass shards glittering faintly in the wake of his light. Harry carefully followed the scorch marks to the back rooms. The hallway closet faced the entire hallway. He opened it a bit, trying to imagine a small child crouched on the floor. The right door was closed, childish drawing covering the wood. The left door was kicked open, splitting a bit to his left.

Dust was thick on this side of the house, thicker than anywhere else, the glass undisturbed. It was the only place in the house that hadn’t been cleaned, unlike the other rooms. Scorch hadn’t entered this side of the house. Or perhaps couldn’t.

The master bedroom was full of dust and pictures. It was a bit awkward, just waltzing into Malfoy’s room, but he really didn’t have any choice. The bed had been thrown to the side, the dresser cast aside, and, more interestingly, claw marks. He picked up one of the pictures on the dresser that had fallen down.

Draco looked thinner than he would have imagined, a gray Henley and dark green button up hanging off of his frame slightly. His eyes were still sharp and gray, but they seemed a bit softer, glancing over the porch rail to look down on his wife and child. Astoria was in the grass, her long hair pulled into a simple bun as she played with Scorch. Her smile was wide and bright, and her eyes didn’t look nearly so down.

But it was Scorch that caught his attention. His hair was a bit shaggy, platinum blonde strands hanging slightly in his face, but he smiled with no reservation. He was talking adamantly about something, gesturing wildly with his little hands at a small toy boat. He looked so innocent, so different from the child that he had seen yesterday, he halfway couldn’t believe that they were the same kid. He couldn’t see this child in the boy that had broken his nose in Weasley’s Wheezes.

He looked at a few more photos, trying to catch a glimpse of any other person in them that would have known the Malfoy’s around here. But it was all family. Astoria and Scorch sitting at the kitchen table, doing some sort of homework. Draco in a workshop of some sort, intensely focused on the carving on some sort of table. Draco and Astoria had done everything they could possibly do to make sure that Scorch had the love and guidance that a parent was supposed to give.

“Made sure that you didn’t make the same mistakes as Lucius…” He said, collecting a few of the photographs and stashing them away. They were as recent as he was going to get to their appearance, and he needed to find where that workshop was as well. If nothing else, maybe Scorch would like having the photos around, maybe get him to open up a bit more.

He felt a tug on his gut and probed the room with his magic. There was a faint trace again. Curious, he sent out a small wave, feeling the ping echo back.

The closet?

He cracked the door open, taking note of various coats and jackets organized into two different sides. Draco still carried his house colors with many green and silver shirts and pants but there was leather aprons and worn looking sweaters that didn’t look suitable for public. Whatever Draco did for a living, it involved actual labor. He would have pictured the prick for a desk jockey.  Astoria’s side also held traces of Ravenclaw blue and bronze, but many of her outfits were thick sweaters and those tight fitting pants that Ginny liked. It wasn’t that cold here though.

An old chest blended into the wall, right beside a few shoe racks of high heels and leather loafers. That was where the ping kept coming back from. Harry knelt down beside it, but it refused to open. Tapping it with his wand produced a red spark, with small gold aftershocks.

“Great!” Harry sighed, exasperated. Blood incantation and a Maximum Ward. It was going to need a family blood sample. A live one. He was going to have to bring Scorch here. Shit.

He recorded everything down and apparated back into the office, having long since gotten used to the strange gut feeling that came with the action.

“Harry!”

Ron had spent the morning finishing the paper work on their previous case with the smuggled owls while Harry had gone down to the Malfoy’s house. It looked like he had just come back from the filing room if the dust on his robes were anything to go by.

They both walked the short distance to the shared office space. While it was typically policy for senior members of the Auror department to have private offices, Ron and he had opted to keep their shared space. They had learned a long time ago that being alone led to some unpleasant places when it came to their mental health.

Harry locked the heavy door and shrugged off the auror robes, tossing them on a well used couch and flopping down.

“Merlin save me! Ron, I thought I had a good understanding of Malfoy. He was my freaking worst enemy, the perfect definition of annoying prick with half of a heart. But then, well, I found these.”

He handed the photos over to Ron, along with the impressions of the magical signatures that he had gathered at the scene. There was something vaguely familiar about some of them but he couldn’t place them exactly.

“Well, you know what they say mate. A kid can change a man. Lord knows it did with me and my ‘emotional range’.” He smirked, “Much bigger than a teaspoon now.”

The dark haired man laughed, taking the photos back.

“But seriously though, something seems different in those photos. Something about him seems…”

“Restrained.” Harry finished, looking back at the photos. Looking back at them he could see the tightening of his jaw, the tense muscles in his hand. There was also the secret room that he found but he until he could figure out what, there was no point mentioning it yet.

“I’m going to check on Teddy and Scorch and see if they’re ok real quick. Maybe ask him a few more questions. Still have to go over this, don’t I?” He waved the file around, making sure Ron was good before going.

He immediately noticed that the yard had been cleared, the weeds pulled out from their roots and the trees and bushes had even been trimmed. This was certainly new. He walked forward, noting that the porch had been swept and that the rotting furniture had been taken away. Definitely not Teddy’s doing.

He knocked lightly before coming in, announcing his arrival before wiping his feet.

“Hello? Teddy? Scorch?”

The back door connected to the kitchen and he could smell the sharp stench of bleach, the white floors sparkling. What the hell?

“Hey! In here!”

He walked through the kitchen into the living room which had also been dusted, swept, mopped and shined. It smelled of orange cleaner, and he smiled as Teddy hugged him.

“What happened in here?” He swept his hand across the room.

“Uh, well, turns out, Scorch likes a clean house.” He sighed, glancing upstairs. If Harry concentrated, he could hear the faint sounds of scrubbing from upstairs.

“Are you telling me that he’s been cleaning this entire house by himself?” Harry knew for a fact that if Andromeda heard about this, she would have a fit. Teddy had been raised better than that.

“No! I’ve tried to help, even a bit! He just keeps telling me to keep working. I think he’s just trying to keep busy. He was particularly frustrated that he couldn’t read half of the books here because they’re in bloody French.”

Harry nodded, feeling a bit guilty. They were still doing the standard spells over Scorch’s things, just to be sure that there wasn’t anything illegal in it before they could give it back.

“Well, maybe I can get him to take a break.” He said, hefting himself up the steep stairs and into the third guest bedroom. The smell of cleaner and bleach was just as strong in here as the kitchen, so he wasn’t too surprised when he walked in.

Scorch had rolled his sleeves up to his elbows, scrubbing particularly hard at the wooden floors, a small fan going to try and circulate some of the smell. Harry could quickly tell that he’s mind was on something else though. He’s eyes were far away from the Grimmauld wood floors.

“Scorch,” His eyes snapped up, finally noticing him, “I came to see how you were doing.”

He waited as the boy wiped his hands on a spare towel around his waist, his spine cracking after bending over all day.

“Don’t worry about me. Do you have any leads?”

“Not yet, but I’m following a few trails right now. I wanted to ask you a few questions.”

“Shoot.”

Harry gestured for him to take a break, coming down the stairs and into the kitchen for tea. Scorch straddled the chair, resting his chin on the chair, keeping a wary eye on Harry. He still had a long way to go before Scorch would trust him.

“I’m just going to get straight to it. You have got a very extensive record.”

That was putting it mildly. He had glanced over it quickly when Shacklebolt had first handed it over to him. But after he had really sat down, well, it was another story. It wasn’t the longest he had ever, seen, not even the worst, but for a son of Malfoy’s, well, he hadn’t expected the charges either. Fraud, sure, burglary, maybe. But those weren’t on there.

“What does my record have to do with finding my parents?” Scorch growled.

“It gives me an insight into you, Scorpius. It may not tell me where they went or what happened, but we can get to that later. It’s just a few questions.”

He huffed, but nodded.

Harry sat down beside him, pulling the file out so that Scorpius could glance over, if he wanted.

“Let’s just start with the major one. Public Brawling and fighting.”

“I had to earn my money somehow Potter. When I was going through the foster home shit, some of those bastards didn’t pay a damn penny for those kids. I earned money for their school supplies and clothes, not those assholes.”

“So, fighting rings?” Harry clarified.

“Yea.”

That made sense. Scorch clearly knew how to take them down, but they had had magic as an advantage. Without that, he didn’t think that they would have caught him.

“Reckless endangerment?”

He laughed mirthlessly. “Is that what they call it? OK,” He twisted his chair around, facing Harry head on. “When CPS finally caught up with me, they sent me to the first foster home, right? Well, there was this guy at the end of our street, real bastard, kept hitting on the girls in the home with me. So I taught them to hit back. Hard. Man ended up in the hospital after they got done with him, good riddance.”

“That became a trend at every home you went to.” Harry flipped through, seeing the multiple homes that he had been put in. They all reported that Scorch put the other children in danger, some even put abuse. But if Scorch had actually been teaching the kids to fight, that made more sense.

“I’m assuming the tobacco charges are from these?” He waved a hand over to where he knew the burn scars were at.

“Whoever lasted the longest got the money. My pain tolerance is pretty high, so…”

Yes, he remembered. After Draco’s physical report had come back, the amount of crutio scars that covered his body had been nauseating. Several others were present, of course, but that had been the one that had burned into Harry’s memory. The circles overlapping each other like some demented tattoo.

“And the last two reported were resisting an officer and running away.”

“That’s how I became homeless. Last officer tried putting me in jail after Sarah told them I taught her how to uppercut the bully in recess. He tried to take me in, and I snapped him in the jaw. Managed to get away after that. Guess he was too embarrassed to report it in, cause there was never a warrant for my arrest. I just kind of roamed after that. CPA finally gave up on bringing me back in. Just another kid that fell through the cracks.” He grinned. Harry couldn’t tell if it was one of pride or irony. He certainly wasn’t the first kid to slip through the system, and certainly not the last.

“That all you need?” Scorch asked. “There’s not really much more to that. I fought to scrap by, and occasionally sat at street corners with a tin can. I know the fighting isn’t exactly legal, but I was young, and good at it. Brought food to the table anyway.”

“No, no, it won’t affect anything now. Not unless you try again,” he warned with a pointed look. “Did Draco teach you to fight?”

Harry expected the shift to happen. Scorpius curled in tighter in the chair, arms pulling closer to his sides.

“Not really.”

He did this every time he’s parents were brought up. Harry was trying to find them, of course, but it seemed that trying to speak about his parents personally just shut him down. Scorch hunched his shoulders closer to his body, hiding his ears as he stooped over the chair, his knees clenching around the wood like a child hiding a bruise from his mother.

“Scorch, I’m going to have to talk about them sometimes. I understand that this is difficult, but you’ve got to work with me.”

He was silent for a few minutes. “Me and Mom used to go to this boxing center in town. She was the one that got the lessons and stuff, I just kind of watched. When the instructor noticed that I was copying the moves, they placed me in the mini’s class.”

Harry nodded, staying silent for a few moments before continuing.

“That’s good. It helps. Do you know if Draco did anything while you two went to these lessons?”

“Dad was always a bit of a home-body. He would have dinner waiting when we came home. Sometimes,” he laughed, “He would try his hand at baking. He’d gotten pretty good at apple pies, last time.”

Harry nodded, folding the file over.

“Ok, Scorch, you’re doing good. I have one more thing to ask of you. Did your Mom or Dad ever talk a lot about the Wizarding world? Anything at all?”

“Not really,” He shrugged. “Dad…didn’t like talking about it much. He’s face would kind of smooth over into this mask and he would kind of rub his arms down, like he was cold or something. He would tell me some things. Quidditch games at Hogwarts, what the Slytherin common rooms looked like. Sometimes he would tell me about my grandmother, but I remember that he pointedly never talked about granddad, even if I asked. Mom was happy to tell me about her family too, and about Hogwarts and the Russian country side. I think she missed it a lot more, but if she ever mentioned it to Dad, he never said.”

So Scorch wasn’t completely oblivious about the wizarding world, but it kind of felt like he might as well be. He had no idea about the war, or who was on what side. Not that it really mattered in the end. There is no good ending in a war, just who has to pay at the end of it. And they all paid, in blood and sleepless nights.

“Alright, I’m going to go back and check on some of the evidence. Next time I come around, your stuff should be done from evidence and I’ll be able to get it back to you. You could probably use Teddy’s textbooks, if you’re worried about getting behind or anything.”

Scorch got up, shaking the tension off of his shoulders. “No, the other ones have the work books and notes that I need. Besides, they’re the only thing I have left of my parents. I’ll be plenty of busy with this house and the dogs, just go.”

* * *

 

He had given up a few years ago keeping tabs out for Malfoy and his location. Around the time Albus was born, he had just put in on the back burner. There was no point chasing a ghost that he couldn’t find. After Lily, well, he just hadn’t checked the tag for a long time.

But maybe it was time to figure out what exactly had happened before Draco disappeared.

He walked over to Hogwarts, a feeling of bitter sweetness choking his throat a bit as he walked towards Professor-Headmistress McGonagall’s office. Blimey, it was still strange to call her that. Peeves swooped down at him with a cackle, along with a cheer from Nearly-Headless Nick that Harry returned. The school brought back many memories, though he couldn’t quite pin point good or bad. It just made his chest tight. Eventually he reached the griffin that guarded the office and whispered the password. Normally, Professor McGonagall wasn’t a woman of sentiment. However, she hadn’t had the heart to change the password since Dumbledore’s passing and had changed it back to ‘Lemon drops’. Most of the students knew it already, and sometimes came to talk to her if the need arose, though few actually used it.

She was still here, as he expected she would be, her quill scratching intently on the parchment.

“Mr. Potter! What can I do for you today?”

“I was wondering if I could have a look at Draco Malfoy and Astoria Greengrass’s school files, please. I have a case that concerns the both of them.”

She raised an eyebrow, but rose from the chair to retrieve them. Her hair had long sense gone gray since he’s school days, and her robes seemed to get heavier and heavier to ward off the chill. But she still moved with the same grace and distinguish that he remembered.

“You understand that I’ll need a bit more than that to just hand over these files. You can be a bit biased when it comes to Mr. Malfoy.”

He nodded, well aware of the fact. “Yes, but this is actually a case. You understand that this is private.” He said pointedly to the paintings surrounding them. The past headmasters shrugged or simply left in a huff, well used to the drama of the school. The only ones that really seemed to be listening were Snape and Dumbledore, who nodded at him with familiar twinkling eyes.

“‘Scorch’ Malfoy has reported his parent’s kidnapping a few days ago.” Noting that she made a slight shift in surprise. “Me and Ron are trying to see what happened, but I think seeing the reasons why he left would be a good starting point.”

“Well, he certainly made changes.” She sighed, handing over the files. “Ms. Greengrass as well. There were quite a few students who started changing their way of thinking after the war, but I remember Draco’s well. He was quite isolated that last year.”

“Potter, you must understand the Slytherin mindset first. The majority of the Slytherin house were respondent. They understood that they had done wrong and were trying to figure out what to do now. They’d been lied to their whole lives, and having to develop a whole new moral understanding after that…we gave them the time needed. However, there were some…they were not apologetic about their actions, and made their opinions quite clear. Mr. Malfoy got into quite a few fights with them.”

Harry nodded, glancing over the file. Indeed, Draco had several visits to the nurse’s office, all reports of hexes and jinxes, typical duel fodder. But he had sent plenty of others to Poppy’s office as well.

“The Greengrass’s, while not being quite so high on Voldemort’s ladder, were still very much involved. I think she was trying to find the truth, or at least prove something. Several hours were logged into the library, all about magic and blood properties, runes, that sort of thing. At some point, she and Mr. Malfoy started working together. According to Ms. Pince, they seemed much happier together. Goodness, the scandal when he proposed at the end of the year…”

“What do you mean?” He spelled a small pad of paper out of his pocket, casting it to right everything down.

“Mr. Malfoy had somehow gotten ahold of his great-grandmother’s ring, though they never could figure out how, considering he never went home after that year. But he proposed to Ms. Greengrass, and she accepted. The Greengrass’s were not happy. If I remember correctly, Daphne came down to the school herself and drug her out of the Great Hall. There was a shouting match but eventually she left. Draco seemed surprised at first. I think he suspected that the Greengrass’s would show some resistance, but I don’t think he ever imagined that he’s parents wouldn’t like he’s choice. I think there was a collective build up before all of it happened however, though I never asked. He never answered their letters after that, even requested to have them permanently blocked.”

This was news. So Lucius and Nacrissa hadn’t approved of the marriage, and more than likely didn’t know where they’re son had gone, if Draco had completely blocked them months before he left.

“So Draco and Astoria didn’t have anybody else they really associated with?”

“Well, Draco kept a few close, Mr. Zabini and Ms. Parkinson. Mr. Goyle was still a loyal friend to him, and Draco certainly treated him better after the war. In fact, Albus and his son, Gabriel, are close. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve had to shoo that boy out from the entrance of the school. Staring up at the guardian statues as if he’s going to crack them open with his eyes.”

Harry had never heard of Gabriel Goyle, but then again, Albus never really talked about his friends at home. Albus had become rather closed off after going to Hogwarts, becoming more introverted as the years went. He knew part of it came from being his physical clone. There were expectations placed on him that had no right to be there. It was the same with James as well. James, though clever in his own way, was not much of a pranker. Albus, while looking very much like he’s father, was much more balanced, able to separate school from relationship and emotion from work. It scared Harry at first, seeing how utterly he shut down once he sat down to write a paper or work on potions. But he had learned.

“There’s something else.” He stated, seeing the way that she seemed to falter.

“Not about the case, Mr. Potter, but about the Slytherin house, because I’m quite certain that your boys haven’t spoken to you about it. You remember the reputation that they had, when you went to school?”

He nodded, tucking his pad away in his pocket.

“It seems to have reverted. The Gryffindor house, out of some sort of sense of supremacy at their role in the war or misplaced grander of justice, have taken to ‘punishing’ the Slytherins for their ‘crimes’, even though the children have nothing to do with their parents guilt or victory.”

It would explain the quiet nature that Albus had adopted, as well as how protective that James had become over the years. He remembered when Lily had been sorted into Gryffindor. Albus had been both relieved and nervous, a bit standoffish when they had returned home that summer. But Lily had never changed her affectionate nature towards either of her brothers, no matter how much they pretended to protest.

“We’ve tried curbing it. However I think that Albus and the others are reaching their wits end. If there is anyway at the beginning of the school year you or perhaps Ms. Granger or Mr. Weasley could come talk at the opening ceremony about fairness and forgiveness, something of the sort, I think it would mean more coming from you three. Perhaps we could finally put this to an end.”

Harry nodded, promising to talk to Ron and Hermione. Quite frankly it was ridiculous. These children hadn’t been involved with the war, they hadn’t watched the atrocities taken place. They’d only heard. What right did they have to place blame on anyone? Had they forgotten that the person who betrayed his parents had been a Gryffindor himself?

He sighed, thanking her for her time, before nodding respectfully to Snape and Dumbledore before returning to his office again. He needed to make some actual leads on this case.

For the rest of the night he ran analysis over some of the spells that were still found at the house, mainly the ones found in the hallway. They were powerful spells, more than enough to break the ward on the front door and easily bypass the house. So these wizards had training in advanced spell breaking and dispelling along with the fire power to take down two wizards and drag them out of the house, presumably alive, without being seen by any of the muggle neighbors. It made Harry uneasy.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just going to give you guys a heads-up, this particular chapter has some swearing in it. I know that probably won't affect most of y'all, but I just wanted to put a warning up there in case anybody needed it.

That morning, he stopped at the evidence locker first, requesting the small duffle bag that Scorch had come with. Surely they had finally gotten done with the standard checks by now?

“You want that filthy thing back?” McAnderson asked, lifting a hairy eyebrow.

McAnderson was an older gentlemen that had been around far longer than most people in the department, one of the few that had been allowed to stay after Harry and Ron had made their reforms to the department. He was a dependable sort, if cranky in his old age.

“Yes? Scorch needs his belongings back?”

Why wouldn’t they return it to him?

“Thought the brat was being sent to Azkaban where the rest of those bastards belonged…” McAnderson muttered, standing up from his chair.

“And what did a child do to deserve Azkaban? Scorch may be a little terror, but he’s a good kid.”

He called out across the metal grate, crossing his arms in frustration. They had thought they stamped this attitude out a long time ago, but he couldn’t stop people from being angry. He had no right to decide that for anyone.

“He’s a Malfoy, Mr. Potter. He’s just born with blood on his hands.” The older man growled, sliding the bag to him before slamming the grate closed and huffing away.

Harry thought he was having a rough week. He took in a deep breath, calming the rising fire in his chest before stepping out and apparating back to Grimmuald place.

He had stopped in the house first, smelling fresh eggs and bacon from the kitchen. Teddy had always enjoyed cooking, especially if he had company over.

“Uncle Harry, g’morning!” Teddy smiled, looking at him from over the paper. He gestured for him to take a plate and grab some of the leftovers on the stove.

“Morning. How are you two?”

“Alright. Seems like the house meets his standards, and has now moved onto the dogs.” He glanced at the back door, a tight look on his face. Harry raised an eyebrow, gesturing him to go on.

“Harry, there something wrong. They…don’t act right around them. Veteran answers to him. Veteran!”

That was certainly a surprise. Veteran was the oldest dog that Harry had ever seen survive the fight rings, a bull of a beast, with large shoulders and broad chest that could barrel him over in a second if he wanted. The amputated left leg did nothing to weaken his strength, and he had proven time and time again that he tolerated them, but was not tamed at the slightest.

“What about Bathory? And Rocky?”

Bathory was a pit mix that had gotten her name from her ‘finishing move’ in the fights. After taking the dog out, she would roll around in its blood, staining her coat a mish mash of dried blood that would never come out. She was sweet enough when she wanted to be, but when pushed…well, he had the scar to prove it. He had learned after that to not sneak up on any of Teddy’s dogs.

Rocky was the newest addition, a mutt of some sort with a squashed face and build that rivaled Veterans’ bulky frame. He hadn’t been in the fights for very long, just long enough to make him skittish of humans. He would have made a good pet, if not for the fear that drove him to aggression. He was the sweetest of the bunch, but if you got anywhere near his neck, well, it didn’t end well.

“Look through the window.” He said, laying the paper down.

Scorch, at some point, had built an obstacle course in which the dogs ran through, along with a make shift treadmill. Where had he found the supplies for all of this? Where did he learn to do all of this in the first place? What surprised Harry the most was the pillows bandaged around his arms and legs. Rocky was on the treadmill, feet pounding away as Bathory panted underneath the tree, watching Scorch intently. He was instructing Veteran, finally giving a command. The Pitt jumped at him, knocking him to the ground, teeth clamped down on his arm. Harry snapped, but Teddy held him back.

Scorch gave a sharp command and Veteran released his hold, moving back obediently.

“He’s training them as guard dogs?”

“He said that we would never take that aggression out. So he’s using that violence to his advantage. But Harry, look. Do you see how easily they answer to him? Do you get what I’m saying? After living with me for a year, I can’t even get Veteran to sit, but Scorch strolls in and he’s dropping his toys and waiting for food without so much as a growl….Somethings not right.”

Harry mused over it as he continued glancing out of the window, fingers tapping on the window seal. They may see Scorch as just another rescued fight dog. Scorch had admitted to such just the other day, and he certainly had the technique to prove it. Fight dogs were controlled, put there by masters with no care to them to get money and entertainment. Scorch, well, he was his own master. He threw himself into fights to earn money and school supplies for him and other children that he had lived with. The same instinct possibly carried over. It could also be that they were being trained in something that made sense to them. Teddy had been aiming on making them adoptable, into being pets. But they weren’t pets, they never would be. They’re was too much rage and pain there for them to just lay around for the rest of their life’s. Scorch wasn’t telling them not to bite. He was telling them when.

“I guess that makes sense.” Teddy nodded, seeming a bit more at ease.

“But he hasn’t been aggressive towards you?” Harry prodded.

“No, not really. But he doesn’t trust me either. He doesn’t really relax around me or anytime that I can think of. Not even in sleep, he’s usually curled up with the dogs, who stay up to guard him. Literally, guard him, I can’t get near him without Bathory trying to take a nip of my hand. I’ve half a mind to just send them with you when you get that room set up.”

Harry chuckled. “Not a chance, but I’ll set up a between way so that he can continue training them. Who knows, maybe you’ll finally be able to get some new dogs without Veteran ripping them a new one.”

Scorch had noticed him at some point, coming in through the back door with the dogs panting.

“Potter, what’cha need?”

“I just thought I would drop these off,” He said, waiting until Scorch had laid out the water bowls for the three. He was surprised that he made them wait, even growling when Rocky made a move to go forward. He snapped his fingers and they rushed forward.

“Thank you.” He smiled gently, the first that Harry had seen, and slid it back to its rightful spot slung around his shoulders.

“Why?” Teddy sighed, referring to the mess on the floor now.

“They have to understand that they get nothing unless I say so. They don’t eat, they don’t sleep, and they don’t drink, until I tell them they can. That’s alpha behavior. They need to understand that I’m alpha. That’s the only way that they’ll really listen to me. Especially that one.” He growled, gesturing to the old pit. Veteran huffed at him. Scorch pulled his lip back to show his teeth.

“Well, make sure to take some time for yourself too.” Harry said, deliberately laying a hand on his shoulder. He flinched, but relaxed a bit at least.

 “Yea, yea.” He shrugged. “I know. Any leads?”

“Not yet. Just thought I would drop this off,” He said, handing over the black duffle bag. “Ginny said that she’s almost done with the room. Any colors or themes you’d like? We can try and put them in.”

“I’d be ok with the floor, if that was all you had.” He smiled, slinging the bag into its rightful spot on his back.

“Not putting you on the floor. Also, remember that dinner is tonight, so be ready for that, ok?”

“Got it, be a good boy.” He snarked, walking up the stair with a sharp whistle.

 “Feeding time now.” Teddy sighed, smiling a bit. In truth, he really was happy that Scorch was making progress with the dogs. He was at his wit’s end. But it seemed like the blonde was exactly what they had needed in order to bring about their full potential. And with the house clean and dogs occupied, it had given him plenty of time to study for his journalism exam.

Harry waved him goodbye as he apparated away again.

* * *

 

Hogwarts had barely gotten out when all of this had started. Normally, Harry would at least spend a few days spending time with his kids, learning about their final days at Hogwarts and all their adventures. But with this investigation going on and setting up an expansion spell on one area of the house, himself and Ginny had been busy.

Their house was located a bit on the outskirts of Wizarding London, an ordinary two story with a large porch with. A large expanse of forest stretched out into the backyard along with a small quidditch field that Ginny and the kids used for practice. Ginny always like wide open areas and airy feeling places, so that’s what they had done with the house as well. The Living room was cozy, in a golds and reds and browns, with plenty of couches and pillows. Albus and Lily liked using hammocks best, so they left a few hanging for them. The kitchen was similar with bright tile and hanging pots and pans lined on top of the cabinets, easy cooking and experimenting, which made Lily happy on those slow days when Albus and James were gone at Hogwarts. The whole area was covered in wards and glammers so that nobody could see or waltz in at anytime, which was helpful when it came to the irritatingly persistent paparazzi.  Ginny was practically gone during quidditch season, but she balanced both of her jobs as well as she could. And they both did pretty damn well, if he said so himself.

 “Dad! Your back!” Lily clambered down from the sunny hammock by the window, rushing into his arms. She was still small enough to do this. The boys, well, they were too old now to feel comfortable anymore. Not to say he still didn’t get hugs from them, just, not as often.

Albus smiled, waving at him from other hammock in the corner.

“Hey. Mom says that the room is ready. She just needs to know about decorating.”

Harry nodded, picking Lily up and lightly kissing her forehead. “That’s good. Where’s James?”

“Hmm, Uncle Charlie’s I think, trying some new techniques. Scorch coming tonight?”

“He should be. Teddy’s coming with him for dinner. That means you’ll actually have to wash up, you know, shower, out of pajamas. That sort of thing.” He said, ruffling his son’s hair. It would never really be neat, not with Harry’s genes. But Albus had cut the sides short and kept the top longer, at least making the chaotic strands look on purpose. (Undercut)

Harry laid Lily back in the hammock, and walked upstairs, hearing the faint buzz of magic.

Usually, there were only four rooms down the hallway, but now there was a new door at the very end of the hallway. If there was one thing that the Weasley’s knew best, it was how to do house expansion spells. They had called Molly and Arthur over to lay the foundations of the spell down, to be sure it was sturdy, and then done the rest themselves. Arthur was getting on in years and couldn’t do as much as he used to. Being in two wars would do that to a man. But he was still going strong, and more importantly, staying active with his new litter of grandkids.

The room seemed a bit odd, compared to the rest of the house. There was a circular mattress with a thin bit of wood to keep it from touching the floor and a large thin canopy stretching from the ceiling to the floor itself, thin enough to breathe but still be private. It reminded him a bit of a cave. A large window was just above it, opened a bit to let a breeze in, also circular in design. Ginny was waving a dresser over to the other side of the wall that he recognized from the Burrow, a bit scratched up and old from use, but taken care of. After Teddy’s comment about Scorch’s constant reading at the Grimmuald Place, they had asked Hermione for any recommendations to put on a book shelf. Of course, she had come over with two boxes with books of all topics. It might make him at least a bit more comfortable, at least.  A desk was on the same wall as the bed, with a lamp and a few notebooks beside it. The colors contrasted a bit with the house, soft grays and dark blues that gave it a calmer, darker theme.

“Originally I had a four poster over there, like the boys have. But Teddy said that Scorch never slept in one over there. Just a pile of blankets on the floor, by the dogs.” She sighed, letting the dresser down and tucking her wand away. It was the first Harry had heard of Scorch actively refusing a bed, though he really shouldn’t be surprised.

“Harry, not even you slept on the floor when you first got here.”

“Me and Scorch are very different situations. I wasn’t homeless, Gin.” He said, hugging her from behind and nuzzling slightly into her neck. “Did he say anything else?”

“Hmm, not really. Says that he doesn’t talk much, but he avoids sleeping until he’s exhausted.” She sat down at the desk, popping her neck. “I know, I’m probably being ridiculous…but I’m worried. What kind of life did he live before, if the floor is more familiar than a bed? Why does he need a pack of fight dogs to guard him as he sleeps? He knows that Teddy won’t hurt him, right?”

Harry leaned against the desk, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t know, Gin. I mean, I’ve seen some of the scars, they aren’t pretty. You could bet money that he’s learned not to trust others until they’ve earned it. He’s a kid who’s fought for every scrap of bread that’s come he’s way. The dogs may sense that he’s had a rough life and respect him for that.” 

“Whatever is going on, whatever happens, we are doing it together, ok? Not going to leave you alone with four teenagers in the house. Reminds me, do I need to go the shops for anything? He’ll need some of his own clothes soon enough”

She hummed a moment. “I already got some underwear and a few more shirts and pants that he can wear. I don’t know if he’ll like them though.”

“He doesn’t have much of a style as far as I can tell. Just whatever’s there.” Whatever is warm and available. Harry knew, but didn’t say. Maybe after he had some options or get him a bit more used to the wizard world they could take him shopping. The Malfoy family vault should still work the same way. If not, Harry was more than willing to dip into his and Ginny’s vault for a few pieces.

“Alright. Let’s start dinner then. James is off at the beach near Charlie’s place. Wanted to try some of the weather out there for practice. Have to see if he can pull of that feint yet or if he still needs help with it…” She murmured, preparing a message in the floo to get him back home. Harry could hear the faint sounds of the shower going in the other room. Maybe this evening wouldn’t go too badly after all.

“Harry!”

He rushed down the stairs at Ginny’s urgent yell, glancing past her to the frantic flickering of Teddy’s head in the fire place.

“He’s gone! Scorch is gone!”

* * *

 

No signs of forced entry, no breaks in the barrier. Scorch had simply left the house. How? Why? Harry waved his wand, a small hoard of plain looking pigeons erupting from its tip. A new spell that they had developed in the magic department, it allowed Auror’s to have eyes in the sky to better see any suspects.

They scanned the crowds of people milling about for Scorch’s signature, or anything suspicious. But Scorch had been anticipating him. He had learned to hide his signature. At least Harry knew that he’s studies were going well, if he was doing well in third year spells.

He climbed the roofs of the stores, pulling the invisibility cloak around him tighter. Where would Scorch have gone? There wasn’t much to do in this town, certainly not in these older district filled with elderly couples and tea shops.

Why would Scorch leave? He knew that Harry was bringing him to the house tonight, that the dinner was going to happen. So why act out now? What had changed?

He’s birds started chirping and he glanced through their eyes. Scorch knew to hide his magical print, but it became much harder when one was reached a high emotional state. Small bursts of magic, hot and intense, were erupting from a hole in the wall about four blocks over in an alley. No name over the door, but the life signatures were pinging off the place like mad. That didn’t sound well.

He climbed down the red brick wall, noting the thick layer of grime that seemed to cover the place. He would need to change clothes before he headed back home. The birds flew back into his wand and he silently walked over to the metal door, pushing it open and squealing hinges.

He climbed down the steep rotting stair case, the roar of a crowd contrasting sharply with the quiet alley way filled with rats and trash. Where the bloody hell was Scorch?

There were at least a hundred bodies in the room, hulking men reeking of whiskey and beer hollering drunkenly at the spectacle in the middle like animals. There were a few not so drunk people, weaving in and out naming names and prices.

Of course. This was how Scorch earned his money. The underground fight rings. He silently swore as he weaved himself through the crowd, brow furrowing at the wet sound of blood hitting the pavement.

Finally, he made it to the center of the ring, pulling the cloak closer to his body. Not that anybody would have noticed if a random man appeared suddenly. The center of the ring was certainly more entertaining that the invisible man in the front row.

Scorch’s chest heaved in the middle of the ring, he’s fists tightly curled as he’s broken and bloody knuckles continued pounding into the man on the other side. He’s skin was flecked with blood and bruises, the colors smearing together as it trickled down. His opponent was even worse that Scorch, he’s nose definitely busted, his rib cage expanding into an array of colors. He was swaying slightly with each staggered step, but that didn’t stop him from trying to hit the teen in front of him.

The blonde roared, shaking the room as he hurled himself onto the man with the ferocity of a demon. Harry took a step back, barely registering the sound of a bone popping out of place. The man howled in pain, falling. He had at least two stones on Scorch’s small frame, but he was finished. The crowd roared in primal approval, the collectors happily taking the claims of the new underdog on the scene. Scorch walked over to one, a dark haired woman in a revealing top. She was trying to provoke him into another round.

“I think he’s had enough.” He growled, yanking the hood back to reveal his head. The woman shrieked, but nobody even looked up as Scorch was dragged underneath the cloak. Desperately, the searched for their new champion, but in vain.

“What in bloody hell were you thinking?” He snapped, releasing the teen as they staggered into the Grimmuald place.

Scorch reared back, his fist connecting sharply into Harry’s check.

“Seriously, I didn’t even get my fucking cut!”

“That’s what you’re worried about! Unbelievable. Scorch,” He glared, “How exactly do you expect me to find your parents if I have to worry about your head smashed open in an alley? Huh?”

“Why the hell would you care? You’ve made it evidently clear what you think about my family! Two faced bitch!”

Harry managed to dodge this time, but not from the kick to his ribs that sent him spiraling to the floor.

“Enough!” He snapped, casting a wordless stunning spell. Scorch leapt to the other side of the room, hands clenched. “What are you talking about? I have been nothing but kind! I have done nothing but show support!”

“Really? Explain this!”

The blonde marched over the bed, ripping the black duffle bag open and dumping the contents onto the pristine floors.

“You call that kindness! Take the last fucking thing I have of them and shred it into bloody pieces! I can’t fix this! Everything’s gone!”

Harry slowly knelt down to the floor, wordlessly picking through the items. What the hell was this? Scorch’s things were ruined. They had had some wear and tear from life on the road, but they had been in decent condition. This…this was not what he had dropped off at evidence.

The textbooks were ruined. A knife had been run through the binding on the textbooks, the pages practically dipped in black ink. He couldn’t even open them without it dripping down onto the floor. The binders were slashed open in a similar manner, barely hanging from the seams. He’s notes were shredded, but what few were left only had one word scratched across it.

Deatheater.

“You didn’t know. Did you?”

He glanced up briefly. Scorch’s fury had faded away into something quieter, something heavier.

“No. I didn’t” Harry answered tightly, his lips curling in rage. He should have checked the bag before giving it back. He should have caught this. Merlin, who would do this to a child’s only freaking belongings?

No, he knew exactly who would do such a thing.

He pulled one of the binder’s closer, glancing inside the cover. What was this? He pulled out a manila folder, hidden inside of a pocket on the cover. It wasn’t nearly as stained as everything else, but it wasn’t anything magical. This was muggle.

Scorch was silent as he pulled the tab open, sliding a stack of papers out.

Case files. Muggle case files, several from the looks out it, and none of them were completed. He glanced up as he finally caught set of the subject.

“Scorch, how many people did you tell? How many times did you try and find help to get your parents back?”

The boy stumbled back, sliding down to the floor in a ball.

“Two police stations. Three private detective agencies. They all said I was insane.” Scorch huffed, tugging his beanie around his ears. With the bruises and blood splattered across his body, he looked like a dog about to be beaten. “Shit. I’m sorry, I thought, I didn’t…damn it.”

“I’d have been pissed too.” Harry whispered, tucking the file away and crawling over to Scorch’s side. He wrapped an arm around him, pulling him closer.

“Scorch I understand why you went out to the fight rings and I am not angry. I’m not angry with you, and I’m not going to stop looking for your parents. I have some leads, and me and Ron are combing through the evidence from the house. But you have to understand, your parents were taken by magic, muggles have no idea how to look for that, or even know that it exists. I know you’re impatient, I know you want them home. I know you’ve been burned by these past investigations. But it’s been a week. You have to give me a chance, ok? You have to let me try.”

Harry reached a hand up, removing the beanie and gently running his fingers through the short hair.

“We can get more books, we can help you catch up again and get the home school guides that you need. You are a brilliant boy, I have no doubt that you can catch up. I know we can’t replace what was taken from you, I can’t fix this. You feel violated and used. You put your trust in me, and thought that I had abused it. That I had taken the last shred of your inheritance and destroyed it. But I will bring your parents back. And I will find who destroyed your things, ok?”

He felt Scorch break. The lax way that he’s shoulders dropped, his chest tightening with the amount of pain gathered in it before a quiet shaking breath released. Harry said nothing, pulling the cloak around him as the soft sounds of hiccupped breathing echoed in the stark room. Eventually though, Scorch pulled his face away, scrubbing at his eyes and cheeks.

“I’m sorry.”

“I know and you’re forgiven. C’mon, let’s get you looking decent before dinner.”

He helped Scorch up, picking out some of his better looking sweaters before silently walking past Teddy to the bathroom. The shower twisted on with a hiss.

 “Harry, what-“

Harry shook his head. “I’ll explain tonight, after the kids are asleep. But if I start talking now, I don’t think Scorch will be able to pull himself together again. I don’t think he can pick that would over again.”

Teddy didn’t look pleased, glancing at the door before going back downstairs. He glanced down in horrified curiosity as Harry collected what he could and put it back in the duffle bag, tucking it away for work tomorrow. McAnderson was going to answer for this. Dearly.

 

* * *

 

They were a bit late, after Scorch had packed what little he had left, but he cleaned up well. The tear marks on his face had been scrubbed away and his usual reserved expression was replaced with a quiet thoughtfulness. He looked a bit like Draco. They apparated about a mile from the house. Somebody like Scorch preferred to scope the place out before entering into what was the usual family drama.

Teddy gave him a sharp look when he saw Scorch’s bruised face but said nothing, instead blabbering on about the kids and Ginny’s amazing cooking. Scorch nodded politely, eyeing the large expanse of green in the backyard.

“Potter, you have a soccer field or something?”

“Practice field for quidditch. Ginny is a professional player on the Holy head Harpies and senior quidditch reporter for the daily prophet. The kids of course play on it too, when they’re home. We could teach you to fly on a broom, if you’d like?”

“Tchh, you think my Dad, best seeker in Slytherin, didn’t teach me to fly?”

Harry smirked a bit. Finally, something familiar in that old Malfoy pride. “James is almost as bad as Ginny. So Draco claimed he was the best, huh?”

“Best in Slytherin. Said you and some bloke named Krum could give him a run for his money.”

Teddy barged through the back door first, loudly proclaiming that he had made his famous Puppy chow before hugging Ginny and heading off to the living room to Lily’s excited chatter. The red head turned away from the stove a bit to see them.

“Harry, about time. I thought- What happened here?” She asked, dragging Scorch under the light to get a better look at his eye.

“Small misunderstanding.” The teen didn’t seem to expect Ginny to make a fuss, but didn’t flinch as she lightly prodded at the area. “Trust me, it’s not as bad as it looks.”

Normally a simple healing charm would do. But Ginny remembered his aversion to green magic and didn’t take her wand out, instead resorting to older measures.

 “Harry, if you’ll pull out the postulance from the cupboard? Just to make me feel better.” She muttered, easing her grip on his jaw.

“Don’t waste your supplies. Save them for when you actually need it.” Scorch protested, but didn’t move away as she applied the shiny goop.

“Maybe from where you’re from dear, but around here, ingredients like these are right in the backyard.” She muttered, applying the clear-ish looking cream to his eye. “Ok, let me look at it before bed and we’ll decide from there. Go introduce yourself now, dinner’s already done.”

Harry waited a bit as Scorch moved away, readjusting his beanie before walking into the other room. Albus was already making his way over, offering his hand. He was always the most polite of the three. After he had been sorted into Slytherin, his manners seemed to refine themselves into the perfect gentlemen, not that Harry was complaining.

“James, Lily! C’mon and introduce yourselves at least. I promise, your broom is still going to be there when you get back!” He said pointedly to James who was scrubbing the sand and salt water from his broom. He rolled his eyes good naturedly but went ahead.

“Hey, ‘m James. This over excited tadpole is Lily.” He said, gesturing to his little sister.

“What happened to your eye?”

“Lily!” Ginny tsked from the kitchen.

“Got into fight with a crocodile.” He smirked, introducing himself.

They all sat down at the table, quickly passing around the bowls of potatoes, chicken and green beans.

“Is Scorch your real name? Or a nick name? Al uses a nick name too, because he thinks that he’s is too long.” Lily said, munching on a biscuit.

“You would too if your name was Albus Severus Potter.” He muttered, arching an eyebrow in Harry’s direction.

“As bad as Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy?”

Harry blinked, staring at the pale boy as he smirked at Albus’s dumb struck face.

“Your right, that’s way worse.”

Scorpius smiled, laughing a bit before stabbing more chicken, already on his second helping. Ginny caught his eye, raising an eyebrow. That was…unexpected. He hadn’t expected Scorch-Scorpius to give his name to anyone. Not after the fuss that he had put up.

“I prefer it, actually. Don’t get to hear it that often.” Scorpius said, glancing in Harry’s direction discreetly before going back to conversation.

Harry nodded quickly, returning to conversation with James as if nothing had happened, but made sure to note anything else that was said between Albus and him. But Scorpius didn’t say much else, letting Albus paint a picture of what Hogwarts looked like and the teachers and the moving staircases, eyes wide in amazement.

They cleaned up and started getting ready for bed, Harry taking Scorpius to his room while Ginny got the kids.

“I…you guys didn’t have to do all of this. Really, I mean, it’s….wonderful.”

The blonde looked around the room in amazement, running his fingertips over the books, lightly grazing his knuckles over the gauze canopy.

“I’m glad you like it.”

Scorpius nodded absently, opening the closet to see the few pieces of clothing and shaking his head.

“No, really, I mean…I can do chores around the house to pay you guys back. Really, this was too much.”

“If you want to help around the house, that’s fine. Gin’ would probably appreciate the help. But you don’t have to, ok?”

Scorpius nodded, though Harry knew that he would scrub the house spotless anyway.

“There is one thing that I do need to talk to you about.”

He glanced up, seeing the stiff way that Harry held his shoulders.

“I know you don’t remember much from that time, but I need to know exactly what happened on that night. My team can’t piece everything together as well as I though, there are too many assailants, too many spells. There is a technique that I can use to make a copy of the memory and keep it with me, so I can view it anytime I need to-“

“Pensieve. You need to draw the memory out with magic and then you can put it in a pensieve. Which means that I need to relive the entire memory in as much detail as I can.” He smirked a bit as Harry blinked. “Despite what you said back there, muggle London isn’t void of magic. If you know where to look, you can find it.”

“I’ll ask later.” Harry sighed. That was a more troubling aspect that Scorpius even knew. “I’ll give you a couple of days to mentally prepare, just be aware that we have to do it. More than likely at the end of the week. Ok?”

Scorpius nodded, “I can handle it.”

That was the part that worried Harry. He didn’t want to put Scorpius through that again. He didn’t want to do this. But it seemed to be the only way to get a better look at the captors. Some of the magical signatures were familiar, but he couldn’t place them. He’d have to run a larger search.

“Uh,” the blonde rubbed his neck, “Just, past experience, when I’ve had to repeat it for the cops and stuff. I’ll need something to do after. Like, intense hard labor or something, something physically exhausting. Usually, I’d just go straight to the fight rings, but since that’s not really an option-“

“Nope, not an option whatsoever.” Harry grinded his teeth firmly. He would not be fighting anymore, not in Harry’s care anyway. But he’s mind was already going over a few options. There was always cutting fire wood from the woods, or cleaning one of the Weasley houses the same way he had cleaned the Grimmuald place. But if he was volatile as he said, it probably wouldn’t be a good idea to set him with strangers.

Harry smiled knowingly. “I think I know a place that can be arranged. I’ll set it up in a few days, ok?”

Scorpius nodded, digging around in the dresser before pulling out a pair of soft cotton pants, rubbing that material in-between his fingers.

 “Scorpius, we can still take care of you while finding your parents. It’s not an ‘either- or’ thing.” He paused, allowing that to sink in. “Need anything, give a holler.”

He said, wished him goodnight and left the room so he could get dressed. He sighed, loosening his shirt a bit before kissing the other three kids goodnight, eventually following Ginny down to the kitchen where Teddy already had three butter beers on the table.

Harry rolled his shoulders and slumped down into the chair, preparing to recount the day’s events.


	4. Chapter 4

Now he knew why those magic signatures were familiar. One of them was Draco’s, sharp and bright and efficient. The other strong signature was registered to Astoria, brilliant and defiant and strong. He could see why they got along so well.

There were other signatures here as well, traces that he recognized from the second Wizarding War. The dark tinge that seemed to cover the spells, the bite behind the words coiling around the magic in the air. The other spells were definitely from members of Voldemort’s army that they weren’t able to find.

What scared him, however, is that this was not the first time that these specific signatures had been found at a crime scene.

In fact, it wasn’t even the third time.

It was the eighth.

How had nobody made a connection yet? Why hadn’t anybody started looking into the files and checking for patterns? Better yet, why had it taken him three days of digging through the records before even a mention of this other cases had come up? He retraced the evidence back into his wand, unwilling to leave them behind now. Curious, Harry stormed down to the filing room, an older woman sorting through the files as she organized them again. He tried to put a smile on. Oliva was one of the few people outside of the Auror department that treated him like a person and not a legend.

The filing room itself looked much smaller on the outside than it did on the inside, wall to wall with metal filing cabinets that stretched much farther than possible, and nearly impossible to keep together. In the center of the organized desk was an older woman with salt and pepper hair, looking over a file and correcting it with a clear-all ink and muttering darkly under her breath. A small corner with a tea pot and a few mugs were situated on a side table of the desk, along with a chair.

“Good morning Mrs. Oliva. I was wondering if I could take a look at a few case files.” He asked, handing her the list that had popped up beside the signatures.

“More than a few, Mr. Potter. Let’s see here…” she tsked, looking through the list. “Quite a tall order. Can’t say I’m not surprised either.”

“What makes you say that?” He asked, taking a small pad of paper from his pocket.

“Mr. Potter, after working here a while, you begin to notice that people don’t always fill out the paperwork correctly, if at all. Eager to get home to their families and such, can’t blame them of course. But that means that I’ve spent some time correcting files just so their legible. If I be thinking correctly, these are all from Lemmings, and his former partners, Crockett and Strange. Lemmings, that lazy old sod, didn’t even sign off on half of them. Just registered that the victim or families had reported a complaint or report. I don’t even know if they investigated anything. If they did, I certainly don’t have it here.”

She climbed down from her place, the files floating down from her desk and tying themselves up safely in twine before she pulled out the necessary paperwork for him to sign.

“You said former partners?”

“Mhm, Crockett retired to a desk a few years back, and Strange took over the field position after him. They’re all real chummy though. But you already know all of this, right?”

“What makes you say that?” Harry glanced up from his writing, seeing her crooked eyebrow.

“Isn’t that what you’re doing? In house investigations against him? Merlin knows I’ve been waiting for somebody too. Like I said, lazy old sod. Something not right in those eyes Mr. Potter, I’ll tell you.”

 “Well, not officially yet, but we’re definitely looking into him. Mrs. Oliva, if you don’t mind me asking, if they bring in any more reports or cases, if you’d let me know? I understand it can get very busy around here, but if you happen to remember.” If Oliva thought he was running in-house investigations, she would keep it much quieter about him picking up a huge stack of kidnapping reports.

“Of course. Alright Mr. Potter, you’re good. You always bring your cases in decent condition, I expect these to come back in the same manner. Understand?”

“Very, thank you Mrs. Oliva.” He said, gesturing over to the tea pot that he had refilled.

Ron was now officially on the Malfoy case with him, and they both hunkered down in their office, looking through the files together. Eventually, they ended up how they did nearly every time they started reviewing old case files. Harry sprawled out on the old couch with the files laid out over his long legs and Ron sitting on the floor, preferring to fan his out.

“Well, as far as I can tell, these are all done by that group she mentioned. Lemmings, Strange and Crockett” Ron said, preforming a flagrate and writing out the aurors that had signed off on his half on the floor.

“Yea, same ones I’m getting too. But why these guys? And why not put all the pieces together? Surely they must have noticed that these was a highly unusual rate of kidnappings, especially over the course of twelve years.”

“Not really mate. Before Rosie was born, ‘Mione was doing all sorts of research into kids. One of the things that came up was the amount of kidnappings that happened every year. Lot more than you think, that’s for sure. Made us a bit paranoid about letting Rose or Hugo out of our sight, especially after that attempt made on Lucy... Harry, give me the names on your files? The victims?”

“Alright um…Marcus Flint, Pansy Parkinson, and then Draco and Astoria Malfoy.”

“Alright, and I’ve got Millicent Bulstrode, Peony Carrow, Cara Burke, and Sullivan Fawley…”

Harry tapped his quill against the folder. “The only connection I can think of is that most of these families were under Voldemort. You think this is some sort of revenge against the Death eaters?”

“Maybe, but why these particular? These are high profile people, not easy to take or keep hidden. They would be recognized if they were accidently seen. If it was a revenge trip, it would make more sense to kill of the pure blood lines...wait.” He squinted his eyes. “Flint, Malfoy, Carrow, Fawley, Bulstrode, Burke, Greengrass…Weasley.” Ron’s head snapped up.

“What?”

“Give me a minute.” He whisked out of the office, leaving Harry in the dark. What connection could Ron possibly see? What did Weasley’s have to do with this?

Ron came back, a few more files in his arms and spread them out along the floor along with the others. The others in the files were attempted kidnappings and other missing person reports, but how did Ron filter then out from all of the other cases?

“Attempted kidnappings on Lucy Weasley, and Adam Frank Longbottom, and the confirmed kidnappings of Draco Malfoy, Astoria Malfoy nee Greengrass, Peony Carrow, Pansy Parkinson and Cara Burke. Then the missing person reports of Marcus Flint, Millicent Bulstrode, and Sullivan Fawley. The files that I just brought in,” he said, laying them out beside the others, “are Maria Abbot, Ernie MacMillian, Theodore Nott, Thorifinn Rowle, and Malfada Prewett.”

“Ernie! When?”

“Harry, look at the names! This is the remaining family members of the Sacred 28, that bullshit pure blood list! These are all the families that are still alive.” He hissed, thrusting a piece of paper in his direction as he took the files off of his desk and arranged them on the floor with the others.

The Sacred 28 was an outdated list that had a list of the purest of pure bloods in the wizarding world, according to the unknown author anyway. They were also the richest and oldest families as well, so Harry wasn’t surprised that there was a list, even if the pure blood reasoning was bullocks.

He read through the names though, finally understating what Ron was talking about.

“Oh Merlin…”

He could only hope that Lemmings had actually done his job and collected some sort of evidence. And while he was at it, he could get to the bottom of Scorpius’s books.

“Hello Auror Potter, Auror Weasley, how can I help you today?”

“Where’s McAnderson?” Ron blurted out.  A pretty little girl sat in his usual chair, her pleasant demeanor and soft jazz music a far cry from the cantankerous old man that had sat there for nearly forty years.

“Mr. McAnderson retired yesterday evening. But he’s been training me for a long time, and I know my way around the system.” She said, straightening up a bit.

“I have to speak with him about a particular piece of evidence that I picked up yesterday.” Harry muttered darkly, taking out the duffle bag and dropping it on the desk.

“Oh Merlin…” She uttered, pulling on a pair of gloves and taking a few of the books out. “My God, I remember you bringing this in. It didn’t look anything like this.”

Ron looked on in horror, staring at Harry.

“Do you know if these evidence boxes have been vandalized as well?” He handed her the paper with the case numbers.

“I…can see. Those are all in the dark vault, give me a minute.”

She scattered away, leaving the ink bleeding a mess on the desk.

“Harry, what-“

“Scorpius’s things had to be processed as evidence. When I came back to pick his things up the other day. That was left. And now McAnderson is just gone?”

“I don’t believe in coincidences either.”

She came back using a levitating charm a few boxes behind her.

“I’m sorry Mr. Potter but these are the only ones that we have evidence for. All of the others were reported but if they did any actual investigating-“

“You don’t have it here.” Harry interjected.

“That’s the thing Mr. Potter, even with these few…” She took the top off of the lid closet to here. “I still don’t have much.

The box was filled with ripped rags and shredded papers, the same bright red ink staining what looked like a women’s coat. Death Eater.

Ron looked beyond anger, ripping the rest of the boxes open to see the same sort of treatment, hissing under his breath.

“We’ll have to redo every single case.”

 

* * *

 

First thing first, they had to report to Shacklebolt everything that they had discovered. This had evolved well beyond a simple kidnapping and into what seemed like a conspiracy. If nothing else, Lemmings and his groupies needed to be dealt with.

His dark face became stony as Harry continued, Ron pulling out all of the files and evidence boxes that they had brought. It wasn’t a complete case, not really, but if they were to do interrogations on fellow Aurors, it was required.

“I can’t believe this. After years of weeding the department of corruption and deceit, this gets pulled, right under my freaking nose…” He breathed in, trying to regain his calm. “Go to any witnesses left, find any clues. I will interrogate Lemmings, Crockett and Strange myself. Auror Weasley, I want you to find out where McAnderson went. I knew something wasn’t right after he left so suddenly. Where are Scorpius’s things? Let me see the rest of the evidence.”

Harry handed over the duffle bag as the rest of the boxes were carefully unloaded, though they wouldn’t do much good to anyone. Everything was destroyed beyond use.

“Besides Weasley, Parkinson seems to be the last successful ‘mission’, just after Malfoy’s. That will be the freshest lead will have.” Harry said, looking over the dates on the boxes.

Ron took the personal file that Shacklebolt handed him, quickly skimming over the information.

“Ron, be careful when you go to McAnderson’s place. Merlin knows what kind of traps he has set up.” Harry said, glancing up from the Parkinson file. Like the others, it was barely anything to go by, and honestly, Harry didn’t know if he could trust the report at all. Who knew if what anything Lemmings wrote was true?

“You too, mate.” Ron nodded towards them, taking a good look at the photo of McAnderson’s house before apparating off. Normally Harry would go, should go, but there was over thirteen different cases to go through now, even if they were all linked somehow.

“Sir, I’d like to interview some of the non-reported cases that I think might be related. Longbottom’s son, Adam had an attempted kidnapping along with Lucy Weasley. It’s very likely that the people that took the others made a nab for Adam as well. I’d also like to ask him about some of the kids. As a professor at Hogwarts, he knows a few of them. He might be able to tell us something.”

Shacklebolt nodded slowly, considering. “I’ll think about it. I don’t know how I feel about bringing in somebody who might be connected. If he’s boy was one of the attempted, do you think he’d want revenge?”

“No, I don’t. Not the type of man, I think. However, he is the most last people to see the attackers last, and he received Auror training. He knew what to look for when he engaged them.”

The older man sighed, nodding his head decisively as he rose from his chair.

“Alright. Interview him, see what he can tell. But if he’s too involved, or it gets too personal, pull him out. I know how protective that man is of his family. I don’t want him flying off the handle.”

“Understood sir.” Harry snapped, apparating towards the Parkinson Manor. He’s gut twisted a bit as he approached the intimidating house, but he didn’t notice the dark walls or black stone. The last witness to see Pansy Parkinson was her son, Linden Parkinson. Albus’s best friend.

He knocked on the doors, though he knew that the Parkinson’s themselves already knew that he was there. So he wasn’t surprised when Mr. Parkinson himself opened the door instead of a house elf.

“Hello Auror Potter. What can we help you with? We’ve already had our inspections done for the month and our wands checked over for spells.”

As was the law with all those who had been affiliated with Lord Voldemort, a probation had been placed. The house was to be searched on a random basis, and wands were to be checked for spells used and their purposes. They usually sent the aurors just starting out in their training for such missions, to help them get used to routine and wear out those newbie habits.

“Yes sir, I’ve aware. I’m actually here to talk about your daughter, Mrs. Pansy Parkinson. Is Linden available?”

There was a pregnant pause, Mr. Parkinson’s old face sliding into an expressionless mask.

“Your department has made it quite clear what they think of my daughter.” He hissed, his knuckles tightening on the door.

Merlin, what kind of damage had Lemmings and the others done?

“One auror does not reflect the opinion of the entire department. Especially when said auror is being put under investigation. Now, please Mr. Parkinson, is Linden home?”

“I don’t think you can take a hint, Mr. Potter” The old man hissed, “I said-“

“Granddad, who is it?”

A head of black hair popped up behind the older man, easing the enormous doors open with practiced ease. He was broad shouldered with dark olive skin and darker eyes that were thinner than his grandparents. He’s check bones were prominent with a strong square jaw and easy expression.

“Mr. Potter, good afternoon. How’s Al?”

“Hello Linden. He’s good, enjoying the break. I was wondering if I could speak to you about your mother a moment.”

He paused, eyes darting a bit before nodding, stepping to the side.

“Now see here young man,” Mr. Parkinson started, his deep-set eyes contorting sharply.

“It’s my memory and my mother. I can speak about her whenever I damn well please.” He hissed, taking a step forward as Mr. Parkinson stepped back. “If you don’t want to hear it then stay the hell away from my room.”

He huffed sharply, motioning for Harry to follow him up the stairs and into the third door on the right. The house itself was very old fashioned. Portraits of past Parkinson’s hung on the walls, all watching him silently as he walked through the halls, faded golds and purples dull from use and age. Many items had been removed, if the empty tables they kept passing were any indication, a thin layer of dust over the wooden surface. The Parkinson’s, at least the grandparents, were still stuck in the far past.

Linden’s room contrasted sharply though. It was painted in deep green and accented with a sharp bronze, with bill boards and black boards lining the west wall with writing. The north wall was covered in books and a few potions balancing precariously on the hard back covers. Harry easily recognized some of them as sleeping potions while others were keep awakes and standard pain killers. A large desk sat on the north wall, well used, and Harry was surprised to see a small laptop sitting there, a word document opened up.

“I’m sorry that you had to see that. Me and my grandparents, we, well, sometimes don’t get along. But they’re trying their best I think.” He muttered, trying to clean up some of the papers from a spare chair beside the rumpled bed, which had even more books open. “Would you like anything to drink? Tea or water?”

“I’m alright, thank you. Al mentioned that you were trying to come up with some sort of shadow and magic spell. I’m assuming that this is what all this is?” He asked, gesturing to the room.

“Yes! And I’m close. Just need to do some more research I think.” He said, finally deeming the place worthy for Harry to sit and taking the other chair by the desk, folding his legs underneath him. “But that’s not why you’re here.”

“No. It’s not.” He sat down, pulling out his quill and casting a quick spell for it to jot down their conversation. “I know that somebody came to talk to you before about your Mother going missing, about a few years ago.”

“Yes, though they never actually did anything.” Linden sighed, jaw tightening.

“Which is why I’m here. We are redoing the auror’s case files and I wanted to ask a few questions.”

Linden straightened up a bit. “What, like reopening the case?”

“Yea, a bit like that. Putting some fresh eyes on the paper and seeing if we can spot something that wasn’t there before. According to Lemmings, you were at the incident?”

“Yes, I was there when my parents was taken.”

“Alright, what happened?”

Linden sighed, closing his eyes. “We didn’t leave in the manor then. When Mom married my Dad, Horatio Pershore, they lived at his house. It was much smaller than this one, but I think she liked it better. I remember when we visited here, she was always…restless. Like there were ghosts in the walls. Probably were. Anyway, we were home. Mom had cooked dinner that night, so me and Dad were washing dishes. I remember that he noticed something in the window. It scared him. I couldn’t see, but I was still small enough that he could grab me. He stuffed me in the food pantry and told me not to make a sound, and then tapped his wand over my head. I don’t remember what the spell was. The doors burst open with a bang of green light. Dad managed to defend them for a few minutes, telling Mom to make a run for it, but she wouldn’t go. They killed him. And then Mom was hit with a crutio and was dragged out…” He took in a shuddering breath. “I couldn’t come out for hours. Paralyzed with my own damn fear. By the time that I finally did stumble out and call police they were long gone, and I was transferred into the custody of my grandparents.”

Harry nodded, looking away a moment as Linden took a tissue from the desk and composed himself. He’s eyes were dry but red when Harry glanced back up.

“Do you remember what they looked like?”

“No, just long white robes and these weird black masks. I was told later that they were death eater masks, but I don’t think they were. They didn’t look the same. Not that they believed me. ”

Linden got up and went through the closet, eventually pulling out a box, rummaging through the contents.

“They were all white, except for these pure black mark, but that was the only one. I’ve seen my granddad’s mask, it didn’t look like that.” He searched through the box, pulling out various papers covered in crayon. Harry noted that many were a child’s crude rendition of the kidnapping. “That’s the symbol that was on the forehead. But that’s really the only distinguishing feature I can remember.”

It looked like a rune of some sort, but not one that he recognized. It was a sharp pointed diamond, with a three point base, and it seemed to be cracked inside. He asked before he crouched down beside the box and started digging though as well. He could see a few more drawings from before, stick figures of a smiling family and other little things he had taken from his home. A snow globe of the Italy landscape, Pansy’s perfume and the sheath of a small knife, its bejeweled handle tucked inside tightly. Harry cracked open a photo album, glancing through the contents.

“This might help too.” He said, pulling out a small blue vial and offering it to him. “My grandparents thought that I might cope easier if the memory was pulled out, but I fought to keep it. It’s not great, but maybe you can find something useful.”

Harry took the vial, nodding his thanks. It was always preferred to get a pensieve so that he could view the memory himself. Linden seemed beside himself, gently touching the crayons with a faraway look.

“You’ve done extraordinary, Linden. This will defiantly help.” He said, patting his shoulder and giving a small smile. “Listen, if you ever need to get away from here, I’m sure Al wouldn’t mind you coming to visit this summer. I think he could use the company with all of the lions around.”

The dark haired boy chuckled, “We’ve discussed it before, but we weren’t sure how you would feel about it with the whole ‘my mom trying to throw you to Voldemort’ thing.”

“Ended up going anyway, right?” He said, pulling the both of them up and magicing the box back to the back of the closet. Linden shrugged, but he looked a bit more hopeful.

“I’ll talk to him, thanks. Is there anything else I can do?”

“If you remember anything else, let me know. But you’ve already given me plenty of a head start.”

He smiled, patting his shoulder again before leaving the room, carefully sealing a few of the pictures and the rune into an evidence bag. The rune was a good starting place. Even if he didn’t know it, it would probably be in the registry somewhere. He nodded in goodbye to a pissed Mr. Parkinson before leaving, apparating back to the department to see about McAnderson. They had gotten lucky that Lemmings hadn’t collected the drawings. They would have been destroyed with the rest of the evidence that had been collected.

Ron had returned with McAnderson by that point, shaking his head. Harry couldn’t say he blamed him for the disgust raised on his upper lip. Granted, Ron still struggled with some of the memories of the death eaters. He didn’t exactly trust past followers of Voldemort, but he had gotten over his hatred. McAnderson clearly hadn’t.

What was done to the evidence was nothing compared to the inside of his house. He had the addresses of nearly every member of Voldemort’s army that was still alive, and Ron had found pages and pages of hate filled letters that he had sent to them, some even addressed to children at Hogwarts. There was still boxes of boxes of evidence that they needed to look into, but McAnderson was definitely apart of this little group.

“At least we’ll be able to use all of his notes to find the remaining members, after we break the encryption on them anyway. Some of these guys were reported missing after the war, but he apparently found them.” Ron said, flipping through the books he had brought back.

“Why didn’t he report them in? He of all people should know that anybody connected with Voldemort has be to under surveillance and parole. That’s how our system works.”

“Apparently he didn’t like how the system works. According to him, we’re too soft on the demons.”He pulled out some papers. “Shacklebolt already has Lemmings, Strange and Crockett. Bastards didn’t even know what was happening until the cuffs were clamped down. They’re in interrogation now. Shacklebolt is sparing no expense, even called in a few Unspeakables to poke around in their brains. I know we can’t enter the room yet, but we can still watch through the mirror. Want to pop in?”

“No, not yet. I may have a good lead. Check this out.” He said, pulling out the rune.

“Bloody hell, what is that?” Ron traced the symbol, trying to remember if they had learned that at Hogwarts. “I’d try ‘Mione first if I were you. After translating that copy of Beedle the Bard she got from Dumbledore, she’s gotten really good at learning how to read these on a glance. Might save some time from the registry, at any rate. ”

“Good idea, thanks Ron.” He clapped him on the arm before moving upstairs and into the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Hermione had been promoted a year ago to Head Deputy of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and would probably continue to assist Shacklebolt eradicate the old laws after he finally got settled into his new office as Minister of Magic. He was running officially now, but nobody had any doubt that the man would easily be voted into office.

Harry made a stop before he went down the twisted corridors to her office.

“Mr. Potter, good morning.” Her Secretary, Mr. Johnathon, said, holding up a finger before hanging up the phone and sorting some papers through. “What can I do for you today?”

“I need to see Mrs. Granger, please.” He said. The dark haired gentlemen had figured out a long time ago that Hermione’s assistant, a young man named Jonathon, was very much like Hermione herself, and needed a certain degree of protocol, even if they both knew that Harry was going to go in, with or without a bloody appointment. He sat down one of the coffees on his desk, the brunette smiling a bit.

“Thank you! You’re in luck, she doesn’t have another meeting for another hour.” He said, smelling the hazelnut coffee lightly before flicking his wand at the door, undoing the ward for Harry to go through.

Hermione’s office was painted in soft beiges, warm browns, and a magiced ceiling that reflected a cloudless sky kind of day. There were rows and rows of bookcases amassed on the walls and a large cherry wood desk in the middle, with small organizing trays on the corners. Hermione herself was busy scratching on a piece of parchment, her normally wild hair tamed into a bun.

“Harry!” She exclaimed, smiling at him warmly as he handed over a small bag of scones. She always preferred the bite sized ones. “This is a surprise. Here I thought that you would be busy doing this case of yours. Ron told me about all about, it’s a dreadful business. Did Scorpius like the books? I have more options if he wants.”

Harry laughed a bit, “I don’t know yet, but I’ll ask next time I get the chance. Actually, we’ll get to that in a minute. Do you think you could tell me what this symbol means?”

She took the paper, eyebrows furrowed together. “Hmm, I don’t think it’s a symbol, to be exact…”

She took out a spare piece of paper, drawing the diamond separately from the cracks inside the diamond.

“Dumbledore had this in some of his books. If the word was complex or meant to convey something important or more complicated than it seemed, he would combine the runes together…” she muttered, adding a few more squiggles to the cracks, and a small hook, making it look like some kind of gruesome tree.

“That’s a blood rune.” Harry exclaimed. She had rounded the bottom out to gentle points, making it much more familiar.

“Yes. And this,” She tapped the paper, “Is something else, but it’s not standard to English runes, too minimal. I’d have to do some research, but I think I can figure it out.”

“You sure? I can take it to the registry and run it though, see if there’s any hits. I know you’ve got to be busy up here.”

“Nonsense!” she snapped, “I want to help out with this case, even if it’s only a bit.” She softened a bit, straightening some papers up. “Which reminds me, do we need to have Scorpius tested? I know he was teaching himself, but he might need more help than we know.”

“Uh, ‘bout that…do you still have your Hogwarts books?”

She paused, “Yes, at home. Why? Ron told me that Scorpius had Malfoy’s books.”

He explained how the case had blown up after finding out that Scorpius’s things were one of many ex death eater related cases that had come up.

“Merlin…” she whispered. “Poor thing…yes, of course. Harry, you realize that you’ll eventually need to go and get the home school manuals for that? And you haven’t mentioned a wand yet, how is he practicing these spells?”

“I don’t know. It may all be theoretical for now, but I know for a fact he doesn’t have a wand. We have to take him shopping for clothes and a wand, at the least…it’s just…’Mione, he doesn’t really relax. Anywhere. I mean, one mistake and he was gone. I still don’t know how he got past the ward around the house. Sure, I found him, but Mione…he hid from CPS for years, it wouldn’t be much of a stretch to do the same. He did it for seven freaking years, he could easily do it again.”

 “Yes, Harry, but you have a reason to make him stay.” She came around the desk, rubbing his shoulder. “You have leverage. You can find his parents, you have gotten closer than anyone else. He’s going to remember that too. Now, I have an appointment in fifteen minutes, and you have a case to solve.”

Harry smiled, shaking his head before thanking her, walking out of her office and back to the Auror department. He had been avoiding thinking about it, but it was around ten o’clock now, and he had made a promise to Scorpius. They would both rather get it over sooner, rather than later.

It was time to take Scorpius home.


	5. Chapter 5

Harry apparated back to the house, waiting a moment for Scorpius’s white knuckled grip on his arm to loosen. He had already explained that they would have to return to the actual house for the memory to be as clear and detailed as possible. How Scorpius mentally prepared for the journey he didn’t know, but he was silent as they walked through the door, pausing a moment in the living room. The teen’s breath came out in sharp inhales, he’s eyes tight as he glanced out of the room.

“Shit, I’m sorry. Just…damnit, give me a minute.”

He collapsed on the couch, his head touching his knees.

Harry said nothing, getting a glass of water and handing it to him, waiting out the panic. He caught faint murmuring under Scorpius’s breath, slipping in and out of English.

“I didn’t know you spoke another language.” He muttered softly, trying to pull him out from his mind.

“Ukrainian. My Mom spoke it. Taught me and my Dad. I was supposed to learn French too.” He sucked in another breath, seeming to gain his bearings. “OK, just…shit. Ok, ok, like ripping a band aid.”

They marched to the hallway, and it seemed as if the shadows fell more menacingly that when Harry had come by himself. The boy walked down the hall, rubbing his knuckles on the walls before turning into his parent’s room.

“God…” he whispered. “What happened? I couldn’t see, but…”

“From what I can figure, your parent’s put up quite a fight before they taken.” Harry said, softly sliding the closet open. “The group that was piecing together the scene tells me that Draco and Astoria’s signatures were hot, meaning they put up a fight. They fought to stay, you know that right?”

Scorpius nodded as Harry walked to the back of the closet, gesturing to the trunk. He had nearly forgotten about it with the sheer magnitude that the case had erupted over in the short amount of time since he had opened it, but it was still important.

“What do you need in Dad’s workshop?” Scorpius muttered, hands running over the soft leather aprons.

“Workshop?” He suspected he already knew what it was for, but he wanted to hear it from Scorpius himself.

“Yea, just…ok, here.” He said, pulling some of the stuff off of the hangers. “At least wear the gloves. Be careful around the tools because some of them are magiced, though they’ve probably lost the spark by now. But if you handle the scrolls, you have to have a different set of gloves because those things are delicate as hell. Not even I was allowed to touch those.” He said, pulling an apron on and clipping a tool belt around his waist, giving Harry two pairs of leather gloves. One pair was thicker with a worn feeling on the insides, a dark working pair of gloves. The others were much thinner, more like the ones he saw the librarian use whenever she went to the restricted section.

Scorpius scraped his thumb over a small hook that he didn’t notice on the belt, a small drop of blood welling up on the skin before falling down to the lock, the ward cracking open with a hiss. The trunk levitated up the wall to reveal a set of stairs descending down. Harry insisted on going first, wand raised, but there was nothing of immediate danger. Draco had trusted that the ward would be enough. Or he didn’t want Scorpius getting attacked if he ever came down here alone.

It was a workshop in every sense of the word. There were saws and hammers and all sorts of little tools in the expansive area, carefully organized boxes of screws and nails hanging from the corkboard walls. Blue prints were tacked onto the walls, different designs for rocking chairs, desks, and even service counters for shops. He noted that all of them had designs for detailed carvings and intricate workings on the sides, small runes placed here and there.

On the other side of the shop was rows of wine bottle racks, but instead of glass bottles there were scrolls. This side of the room had forever enchantments. Extremely difficult magic, but it had kept the dust and air to a bare minimum, which kept the scrolls safe. Harry put on the thinner gloves, grabbing the first one and rolling it out onto the table. He noted that Scorpius watched him closely, making sure he was taking care of the frail paper before looking over the tools again.

The scrolls were filled with runes themselves, though some were spells and potions that seemed as if they could never work. He slid another one out, and this one was filled with different variations of the same rune, how it affected spells, and, more notably, how to place them in items.

“Scorpius, do you know what your Dad did for a living?”

“Um, kinda. See, when we first started moving here, Dad noticed that a lot of the local business, you know the family owned ones and stuff, were getting put out of business by the big corporate shmuts that were coming in, especially his favorite little coffee house. So, Dad got an idea. He made them some new panels to put on the stabilizing pillars that were situated around. They just looked pretty to the muggles. But there were some, uh, minor enchantments on them. Little charms. Students seemed to focus more and get more work done when they went to the café, the air seemed a lot more relaxed than before. Just little things, nothing big!” He defended. “Word got around, and it just kinda evolved into a business. People liked his stuff, it helped even out the competition, and they paid good money, so…” He trailed off.

It wasn’t exactly illegal, not technically, though Malfoy probably played with the boundaries of that rule quite a bit. He could see there was a lot of experimental rune and enchantment plays here that would be highly questionable in the wizarding world, but most of them were only suggestions and small nudges. Certainly nothing dangerous.

“I need to have these scrolls looked at, but the enchantment on them forbids them from coming out of the house. Would you be ok with having a friend of mine come in and look at these? I need to be sure that there isn’t anything in here that links to the kidnappers.”

“It has to be somebody who knows what they’re doing. No direct sunlight, gloves on at all times, absolutely no food or drinks, these scrolls were – are, everything to my Mother.”

Harry nodded, already jotting down a few people. Hermione would have a field day in here, if he could catch her at a good time. “Your mother helped with the business?”

“Yes, she helped with some of the carving and rune crafting. Her charms were more precise, and she would regularly go back to the businesses to renew the magic in them. Shit!” Scorpius groaned, slapping his forehead. “Without somebody to renew the magic the wood pieces are just pretty carvings. I wonder if the shops did ok. I don’t suppose there’s anyway to go and check?”

“You can’t, but I’ll ask around. I need to see some of the carvings for myself anyway.”

He pulled the gloves off, tucking them into his pocket.

“Is there anything you want out while we are here? I’ll have to document it, but a few things shouldn’t be too bad.”

Scorpius paused, looking hesitant. “I know it’s probably stupid, but can I grab a few of my Dad’s clothes? And Mom’s perfume?”

Harry nodded. Though Neville had never done as much in the dormitories, he remembered after the war seeing the teacher put on a small dab of perfume on his wrists from a tiny blue bottle. Ginny had told him it was an antique perfume bottle, probably Alice’s from when she was, well, here. Harry had never asked, but he imagined the scent might have reminded him that he’s mother was still alive, even if she wasn’t fully present.

Scorpius grabbed a few of the worn sweaters and then a light leather jacket, tucking the perfume bottle into the pocket.

“Ok. Let’s get this over with.”

His breathing had picked up again, laying the items on the floor before opening the closet door in the hallway, stiffly walking inside.

“I barely fit anymore…” He choked out, eyes darting like a rapid animal.

“That’s ok. Focus Scorpius…breathe.” He whispered. He hated that he had to do this, had to reduce this teen into a trembling child again, but they had to have that memory. He lifted his wand, barely touching his temple with it, waiting. Scorpius’s eyes snapped shut and he cast the spell.

It bubbled at the tip of his wand, pouring over like a pot of water, bright and hot and painful. Scorpius’s panicked tears leaked into the corners of his eyes, trickling over sharp cheek bones but still the blonde persisted, branding every detail he could in. He winced as Harry started to pull, hand snapping out to stop him. A full minute later, Harry snapped the wand back. Scorpius fell like somebody had cut his strings, shaking. The older man looked down to see the straining muscles in his back, the clenched hands looking for a fight.

“Ok Scorpius. We’re done here.” He said gently, handing him the clothes and leading him out by the small of his back. He said nothing, his jaw hard as they apparated straight to the Burrow. Harry didn’t bother with the pleasantries of sending him to the house for tea or anything, instead directing him straight to the shed.

The shed had been there before even Charlie was born, starting as a small place where Arthur could collect his various muggle artifacts and tinker with them as he pleased. It had expanded as the kids grew, even growing to house his precious flying Ford Anglia. But it had gotten to where he couldn’t even get into the barn without Molly worrying that something was going to fall on top of him. It needed a good cleaning a long time ago.

The shed looked worse than it was. Maybe. They’re were metal shelves all over, piled high with radios, clocks, tv’s, different electronics all from different eras of time. Anglia had been moved to the outside for a few days and covered with a tarp, giving Scorpius more room to work. Rubber ducks seemed to spot themselves amongst the rusting metal, plugs scattered around along with Merlin knew what else.

Scorpius nodded, rolling his sleeves up.

“Boxes are over in the corner. Molly and Arthur both know you’re here and are ok with you throwing anything away that is beyond repair. You need anything else?”

“Go find my fucking parents.” He growled, stiffly marching over to the boxes and picking them up to begin.

Harry walked away, unphased. Scorpius had warned him that he would be running hot for quite some time after.

He walked into the back kitchen, dodging an old wellington book as he hung his brown auror’s coat on a hook. The swift smell of chicken stew wafted from the stove, bubbling gently in the pot. The kitchen and been expanded on, an even bigger table added to include all of the grandkids and adults, 17 chairs now.

“Mrs. Weasley? Scorpius is here.”

He walked past the scullery and into the living room, relaxing a bit despite himself from the familiar and cozy atmosphere. Molly was in one of the chairs, knitting something in a dark blue. She had taken to sitting near the family clock that showed where everybody was. She had carried it with her during the war. He supposed that she still worried, even if her sons and daughter had insured that war would never happen again.

“Harry! You could have told me, I had some tea set up. Wanted to at least meet the boy before you set him up to work.” She tutted, rising from the arm chair to hug him. He shook his head, leaning down to hug here before taking a seat on the sofa.

“Trust me, you didn’t want to meet him in that state. Not yet anyway. He’ll come in when he’s ready I think, or hungry. He just needs some time to sort his head out.” He said, tapping his wand on the sofa. The teacups magiced themselves over, settling on the low coffee table in front of them.

“Of course, I remember. I’m not that old yet. It just reminds me a bit of you when you were angry. Went off in the woods for hours before you would come back, looking as if the world was on your shoulders.” She said, taking a small sip. “Don’t want a repeat is all. I’ve got dinner on the stove, if you want to bring the kids over. Ron and Hermione were going to bring the kids around tonight anyway.”

“I’ll talk to Ginny, but I’m sure we’ll be here. I would hate to leave you with leftovers.” He chuckled, patting her knee. That was always her signal that she wanted to see the grandkids, making extra food. Not that Ginny or himself would ever complain. Ginny and him did just fine cooking by themselves, but it was definitely not a preferred activity. “I just wanted to be sure you were ok before I head back to the office real quick to review the memory. I’m hoping to give Scorpius some good news by the end of tonight.”

“Alright, alright, off with you then. And you better not be late! 7:30, and not later!” She exclaimed, rushing him off. Harry bid her goodbye and apparted back to the Auror’s office.

Ron had already covered more of the victim’s homes, and it seemed that the kidnappers, whoever they were, either did not care that the kids were there or left them as witnesses. Nearly every time it was at a familiar place, work or home or the sort, in which the family would all attend together. He had collected what evidence was left of theirs and so far it was the same symbol used on their masks too. He just needed Scorpius’s to match before he could declare it an official conspiracy.

They had divided the case load. He had gathered information from Pansy Parkinson, Draco Malfoy and Astoria Greengrass, Sullivan Fawley, and Marcus Flint.

Fawley and Flint, much like Malfoy and Greengrass, had been reported by their three children. Fawley and Flint had apparently gotten married at some point and moved off to muggle England, teaching at a smaller wizarding school. Flint was a little league quidditch coach while Fawley had been a history of magic professor to elementary students. The family was attacked after a game in which all three children were severely injured.  Sarah Fawley was hit with an unknown splitting spell that cracked her torso open while Mara Flint took several crutatious’s to the chest, nearly stopping her heart. Marcel Flint, however, seemed to get the worst of it, now paralyzed from the waist down. They were all in Hogwarts now, with Sarah and Marcel in Slytherin while Mara was in Ravenclaw. Notably, the Fawley and Flint families did not mind talking to him, nor setting up interviews with the children, once Mara and Marcel had returned from their robotics camp they attended every year. Even if the Parkinson’s didn’t want to talk, the others were just eager to have their loved ones back.

Ron had taken on the brunt of it, talking to the families of Millicent Bulstrode, Cara Burke, Peony Carrow, and Thorfinn Rowle.

There was still a few more, namely Malfada Prewett, Ernie MacMillan, Maria Abbot, Theodore Nott, and the attempted cases against Lucy Weasley and Adam Longbottom. But those would have to wait until tomorrow.

Harry walked into the office, quickly catching stock of his partner. He was slouched in the large leather chair, his robe hung half hazardlessly on the book. A small bottle of whiskey was gripped lightly in his hand. He seemed a bit out of sorts, though Harry couldn’t blame him. They hadn’t had a case like this since they were fresh out of the exam room and rounding up death eaters.

“Rough one?” He asked, pouring some more into the glass and pulling up a chair beside him to look over the case files.

“Kinda. Word must be going around to the families that we’re actually doing something, because they’ve all been pretty good at cooperating but shit…” He hissed, running a hand through his hair. “Now I know how you felt when you were angsting over Malfoy. We’ve got more child witnesses.” He said, pulling out the photos.

“Millicent Bulstrode, single, one son. Reported missing by parents when she missed her weekly phone call. Her son, Maddock was found three years later in an underground fighting ring and returned back to his grandparents, but has no memory of before. We can tell that he was sold into the ring though, but can’t track the payment back. He was sorted into Hufflepuff last year, with a record of fighting on school grounds. I tested it on him, and he had a strong reaction to green magic, but he never saw the attackers. Interestingly, Millicent worked for a private security company, had a lot of high clearance passwords and stuff around the house they lived in, but no attempted break-ins at her work place.”

“Cara Burke, granddaughter to Edmund Burke, that couple that runs that creepy Borgin and Burke’s shop. She was reported missing after she failed to show up for her shift at her grandparent’s shop. When they had tried finding her along her normal route, they found a back alley that was scorched to hell, along a homeless boy, lungs pierced and bleeding out, but alive. He saw the kidnapping and told them what he could, but whoever took her did a sloppy job with his memory spell. Kid couldn’t remember his name, but he could remember his favorite food. They took him on as a ward and renamed him Benedict Burke, and now goes to Hogwarts, Ravenclaw. I think Rosie’s mentioned him once or twice, tutors in History.”

“Peony Carrow, daughter to Flora Carrow. She graduated from Hogwarts last year and was visiting her Mom after having been abroad for work when Flora and Hestia got called away on a false report that they’re vault had been broken into. After they realized the mistake they rushed back home only to find that the whole mansion had gone up in flames. Both parents died in the fire, but they were never able to find Peony’s body. It’s logical to think that she’s wherever the others are.”

“Thorfinn Rowle, which I would like to point out that we couldn’t find but somehow McAnderson did, was reported kidnapped by his daughter. Him and his partner, Isaac, were married in Italy and took the yearly trip to the family cabin up in the mountains. During the trip, Thorfinn set off an alarm while hunting and Isaac hid himself and daughter, Magnin, underneath the floorboards. They took Thorfinn, but not before returning to the cabin to trash the place. Magnin currently goes to Durmstang and is attending Krum’s quidditch camp as his personal guest. She’s got a good chance of going pro, if her nickname is anything to go by.”

“What’s her nickname?” Harry turned the photograph to the light. She was an intimating figure, with broad shoulders and thick arms and legs from training, her skin tinted dark with her Italian heritage. But her hair was short and soft, with a kind smile and friendly dark eyes as she grinned into the camera, waving beside a salt and pepper haired Victor Krum.

“Bellona. After the Roman Goddess of War. Sweet thing when she’s not on the field though.”  He sighed, “I haven’t even told Mom about Malfada yet. We weren’t particularly close to Mom’s side of the family, long distance to travel between America and England, but still. Family. That’s not even including Lucy or Adam into all of this…”

“Yes…” Harry muttered, rubbing his neck. “You’re going to Molly’s, right? I just dropped Scorpius off.”

“Yea, figured me and ‘Mione could use the break after everything this week. I think she’s getting close to that rune thing. She woke me up at 2 o’clock in the morning last night because she suddenly hit an epiphany last night. I didn’t even try to ask.”

“No, never interrupt a busy Hermione. We learned that a long time ago.” He said, spelling the silver pedestal over to the middle of the room. It wasn’t exactly like the one in Dumbledore’s office, but it was similar. Harry found that he preferred this type over the others.

“Alright, I’m going over Scorpius’s memory. Care to come along, or do you need a minute?”

“No, I’m good.” He said, cracking his back.

Harry took the memory from the simple vial, letting it sit a minute in the water before he nodded. They plunged their heads in, senses clogging as the memory begin to form.


	6. Chapter 6

“So, what’s he like?”

Rose was always a curious creature. Always would be, she reckoned. So when Albus wrote to her about an interesting visitor was staying with the family, serious enough for them to build another room, she was infinitely curious.

Albus seemed to like him quite a bit. Not as excitable as Lily, but not quite as laid back as James. Scorch seemed to be an easy going sort, which suited her just fine. He did warn her about setting off any of her sparklers or spells. Something about him being skittish around green magic, whatever that meant. What interested her the most was the fact that he was one of the few people that seemed to worm his way into Al’s good side that wasn’t family. She knew that he didn’t tell Uncle Harry or Aunt Ginny that he didn’t have that many friends at Hogwarts. Sometimes it was hard to see who to trust. The Potter and Weasley clans were kind of like celebrities, constantly getting looked at in public, paparazzi, crazy fans, the whole package. It made people difficult to sort. Were the genuine or did they want their picture in the Daily Prophet? They had all adjusted the best that they could, They had all learned to walk ahead and ignore them for the most part, putting on different pieces of ‘armor’. The media would never know anything real about them as long as that was on. She gave them what they wanted in public, the straight backed and no nonsense demeanor of her Mother. In truth, she was much more like her Weasley half, a bit lazy and comedic. Albus, well, wasn’t quite like either of his parents, personality wise, but damn if he didn’t look like he’s father. As the years passed, she saw less and less of the excitable and inquisitive side of him turn into quiet reserve and plotting schemes. She wondered if the young eleven year old with all that ambition to understand still existed, somewhere.

 “Like I said, quiet. Certainly not afraid to push the boundaries of magic, though I don’t think he realizes that he’s doing it at all.” He answered. “Got any three’s?”

“Go fish.” She said, rearranging her cards a bit. “No, I mean like, outside of homework and stuff. Does he like sports? Or jokes? I’ve got puns for days! Fives?”

“Merlin save me, if you start on that again.” He rolled his eyes, handing her a card. “He’s only been at the house for a bit over a week, Rosie. I don’t know that much. Mom might have trouble letting him go though. The house has been spotless since he’s arrived. I haven’t had to do my chores once. Sevens?”

She huffed dramatically, tossing the card at his face. “You are bollocks at this. How does he relax? From your letters, he cleans and studies. But what else? He has to stop at some point.”

“As far as I know, he doesn’t.” He said, finally looking at her over his cards. “I haven’t seen him relax. The only time I can think of is when he sits down to help Lily with her lessons. He explains it in a way that me and James can’t see, but seems to make more sense to her. He likes using colors and diagrams. He seems more human, less like a machine.”

She hummed. It wasn’t much to tell, but Al usually kept key pieces to himself to use for later. That was just the way he was now.

“Al! Rosie!” Ron called, “Can you go see if Scorpius is done? It’s about an hour away from dinner, the kid has to have exhausted himself by now.”

Molly had gone out there a few times that afternoon, forcing him to break for a drink of water or a piece of bread, though he wouldn’t stop for more than five minutes. She said he seemed better, but refused to come in, even when everybody else had arrived.

“Yes!” She answered, laying her cards face down. “No cheating Al!”

“Pfft, in ‘Go Fish’?” he smirked, laying he’s cards down and helping her up from across the table. He walked beside her while she cracked the back door open.

Rose carefully casted a simple ‘lumous’ charm, carefully picking her way across the garden and up to the old wooden shed. Rose had only been in the shed a few times when she were little, but eventually it was deemed too dangerous. She doubted that even Hugo had been inside. The lights burned brightly inside of the shed though, casting enough light that she tucked her wand away.

“Scorpius!” Albus called.

She wretched the door open with a sharp squeal, letting in some of the cool night air. The room was warm, almost overly so, and she could see that many of the portable heaters that Grandpa Arthur had collected over the years had been fixed and even lit.

The shed itself looked amazing. Eight consistent hours of work apparently did a lot. The shelves had been cleared and cleaned, then moved to the sides of the garage, creating even more space. Somehow, Scorpius had gathered all of the little pieces and sorted them into bins. Screw, plugs, rubber ducks, scrap metal, and then cogs, by the metal and size. He’s muscles strained as he loaded what looked like the last of the Twentieth century radios onto one of the middle shelves.

“I’ve got you!” She rushed over, taking the other side. They heaved the metal box into its place, the blonde boy dropping to the floor with a thud. He’s arms shook slightly from the strain, his chest heaving for breath, but he was smiling.

“Thanks. Trying to get done, so I could make it.” He took a few more breaths. “Told not to be late to dinner. “

“Well, no, Grandma Molly generally doesn’t like it. Though, she might just let you off, if you show her this shed. Merlin, I don’t think it looked this good before Grandpa Arthur started it.” She laughed, catching the water bottle that Albus threw from the other side of the room. “I’m Rose. You?”

“Scorpius. And I can’t show her the shed yet, I’m not done.” He gasped, chugging the bottle down.

“Not done? What do you mean not done? This place looks amazing!”

“Still have to get the salvageable parts of the stuff that wouldn’t save, sweep and scrub the floors, and then drive the car back in.” He waved a hand over to a pile of radios and TV’s and other various bit of scraps waiting on top of a wooden table that he had unearthed from somewhere.

“I’m pretty sure they can wait until tomorrow. C’mon, you’ve already won guest of the year. Let’s eat!” He chuckled as Albus helped him up, wrinkling his nose a bit. “Well, you might need a shower first. You smell worse than James after a game.”

He didn’t say much as they walked back, though he seemed to breathe a bit easier in the fresh air.

“We have returned!” She yelled dramatically as they walked back into the kitchen. “And I bring a wary traveler, in need of food and drink! Pour the wine!”

“You were right,” Scorpius said, glancing over at Albus. “She would make a horrible actress.”

“Hey!” Rose exclaimed, but the blonde had already darted off, making his way over to Molly to be sure that he was ok to use the shower before heading upstairs.

Harry sighed a bit, he’s shoulders slumping a bit. Good, the boy hadn’t spotted him yet. Knowing Scorpius’s single mindedness, he would have asked about the memory immediately. While Scorpius’s memory certainly hadn’t been the worst thing he had ever seen in the pensieve, it had certainly rattled him a bit. The kidnapping itself had been brutal. But, if he was honest with himself, most of the unease was from seeing Draco again. The last he had seen of him was his back, as he turned away from the court, finally confessing every little shred of evidence that he had on Voldemort and his followers. The pictures made him seem weak and frail, but in reality, he was quite strong, more than formidable. It was easier to see Draco in Scorpius now but harder to separate as well.

“Dad?”

He turned to see Albus, looking a bit uncertain as he pulled him over to a quieter corner of the room.

“Is it really ok? If Linden comes to visit?”

“Of course it is.” He reassured. He pulled his youngest son closer, laying an arm across his shoulder. “Did you really think I’d be angry because he was Parkinson’s son?”

He shrugged, not quite meeting his eyes. “I didn’t know, to be honest. I mean, you and Mom don’t really talk about the war a lot, which I understand because it’s difficult to talk about, but…I wasn’t sure on where you stood when it came to ex-death eater children. Then you brought Scorpius in to live with us until you solved this case and…I started reevaluating.”

Harry shook his head, “You know, you could just ask me. Honestly, how you turned out more like Hermione is beyond me, but you can’t just look at a person and read they’re mind.”

“Well, technically speaking-Dad!” he squealed, rushing to fix the strands as Harry ruffled his already messy hair, moving closer to Ron and Hermione, who had been watching the exchange. 

“Horrible, Harry!” Hermione chuckled, keeping Hugo in her peripherals.

“Ginny, Ron!”

“Yes Mamn!” they snapped, turning towards the kitchen. Molly came out, holding a strange blue bottle, rubbing her hands on a dish towel hanging around her waist.

“Keep an eye on the food, would you? I have to fix something real quick.” She continued, seeing Harry’s confused look. “That boy’s hair is an absolute mess, all choppy and uneven like that. So we made a deal. If I could find a way to hide the scars, he’d stop wearing those beanies. A bit of hair growth while he bathes will get it long enough for me to give it a proper trim.”

She bustled up the stairs. He wondered if he was that uncomfortable with the scars, or if he knew that they made other’s uncomfortable around him. That wouldn’t be such a bad thing on the streets. He had used similar tactics to get Dudley off of his case for a few days, making sure old scars and bruises showed from magical fights at Hogwarts. Maybe he was going for a softer approach now.

Shortly enough, dinner was set out and everybody sat down. Albus and Rose both fought over the bread, while James took the opportunity to sneak extra helpings of stew for Lily and Hugo. It was a favorite of theirs. Scorpius, just like the past times, was on his second helping before anybody else was even done with their first. Molly didn’t seem to mind though, almost encouraging it. He still had his hair hidden in his beanie, though Harry could see longer strands peeking out over the edges. He had changed into a spare pair of jeans, Fred’s he thought, with a new dark blue sweater with a silver ‘S’. That most have been what Molly was working on earlier today.

“Which reminds me,” Ginny said, interrupting his thoughts, “I have to go into town tomorrow to drop off my article to the Daily Prophet. Scorpius, if you want to continue your studies we’ll have to get you a real wand, not that pendant thing you’ve been using.”

What pendant?

Scorpius refused, wiping his mouth quickly. “You guys have already spent way too much money on me as it is. The room, those clothes in the closet, no way are you spending more. And I sure as hell don’t have any on me, I’m still technically homeless.”

“What do you mean you don’t have any money? You’re a bloody Malfoy!” Ron said, pointing his spoon at him. Molly’s face contorted into something pained, though nobody seemed to notice.

“You say that as if it’s supposed to mean something.” He replied, raising an eyebrow. That’s when Harry realized.

Draco may have mentioned the Wizard world, but he had never mentioned his family and what they had done. Of course he wouldn’t have. It was a dark past, and there was no possible reason to explain that to a child. Especially if they weren’t having to deal with those consequences. He didn’t even have to explain the Dark Mark, as those had faded to scars after Voldemort had died. Scorpius knew his last name, but he didn’t know the history, the heritage, and especially the money that had come with it. Draco had worked, Astoria had worked. Draco had bought everything in that house, with absolutely no help from his parents.

“Ah, we can explain some over dinner,” Hermione interjected, “but the point is the Malfoy’s are a wealthy family over here in the Wizarding World. As Draco’s heir, you would have claim over it as well.”

He seemed to pause a minute, thinking things over.

“You wouldn’t pay for anything else?”

“Not unless it was a major purchase, but I don’t see anything in the future that you couldn’t cover.”

He sighed, nodding. “Fine, but just so you guys don’t.”

Harry nodded, satisfied. Afterwards they watched as Molly sat him down in the stool, the beanie letting loose an even worse mess than before. But she held her clippers with a familiar edge, a small smile in his eye as he asked for a particular cut that he had found in an old photograph. Later, he would figure out that it was Gideon’s, from when he was in the war. By the time she was done, he was smiling softly, rubbing the faded sides softly, his thin fingers running across the longer strands on top. You could still see a few of the scars, but the worst of it was hidden with the platinum blonde hair.

“Much better,” She nodded, magicking the broom and pan over and sweeping up the locks before excusing herself to play with Hugo and Lily. They were young, but not old enough to refuse playing snap-dragon with their grandmother.

The peace lasted for a few minutes as Scorpius surreptitiously checked the room that most everyone was gone. The only ones inside the kitchen now were Harry, Ron, Hermione, and himself.

“It’s been a couple of weeks.” He started, the soft expression of happiness melting away to that hardened teenager that Harry had grown used to. “And I know something big has happened. You’ve been running ragged. You promised to tell me what’s going on.”

“I did.” Harry stated, pulling out his wand and casting a light silencing charm. He’d be able to hear outside, but they couldn’t hear him. Scorpius settled down in a chair across from himself and Ginny, and between Ron and Hermione. Harry took a breath and begin explaining how the case had exploded after he had started his initial search for Draco and Astoria, the other children and confirmed kidnappings that they suspected were from the same group. He kept names out, along with the reasons why. He would have to cover the history of the war with him another time for him to understand the role that the Deatheaters had held. But there wasn’t time for that tonight. He made sure to assure him that this had happened to other children though, and that they had seen the same mask that they had. Scorpius was not alone as a victim of the attacks.

 “Many of them also have aversions to green magic as well.” He finished, letting the information soak in for a minute. It was a lot to take in.

Harry could faintly hear the sound of grinding teeth from Scorpius, his face hidden with his tense shoulders. “Do the attacks match? Was it the same people?”

“Yes.”

A low growl reverberated in the kitchen, flash backs of full moons and fangs filling his vision for a moment.

“Not enough that they did this to me, but they left other kids to with no other place to fucking go-”

Ron eased his way over, putting a hand in-between his shoulder blades, even as the growling increased.

“Easy. Me and Harry were pissed to. But thanks to the confirmation from your memory, we can start tracking in larger numbers, get some more trusted people on the case. If it makes you feel better, they did fail. Didn’t get Adam or Lucy, did they?” He continued, the growls easing into something more human. “They’re aren’t invincible or untraceable. It’s just gonna take some time.”

Scorpius nodded, thanking them before leaving the room. Hermione looked quite impressed.

“Didn’t expect that from you.” She said.

“Always the look of surprise.” He teased, “But really, I remember feeling the same way once we started throwing the cases together. Auror department is supposed to be helping people, but instead, we left kids to suffer with the memories of their parents being dragged out, and then no hope of them coming home.”

Harry agreed, saying that they would continue tomorrow. While Ginny was in Diagon Alley, he could talk to Neville. If he couldn’t get on the case, he could at least talk about what happened on the day he saved Adam from these kidnappers. After that, well, it would be his turn to deal with McAnderson and figure out those maps he had.

 

* * *

 

The hallway was black as he crept two more doors down, glancing quickly down at Mom and Dad’s room. Dad was a light sleeper anyway. One creak of a floor board and he would come out, but he knew that he needed to talk to Scorpius.

Albus opened the door, silently closing the door and casting a silencing charm on the room, finally relaxing.

“Scorpius? You up?”

The transparent curtains were pulled around the circular bed tightly, a slight frame shifting as they pulled the dark blue cloth back a bit.

“Yea, I’m awake.”

Albus gestured to the bed and he nodded, letting the dark haired boy come in. Albus had figured out that Scorpius actually preferred tighter, closer spaces, which was the reason he spent so much time in the room itself. It was one of the smallest rooms in the large airy house and it seemed to suit him just fine. 

“What’d you need?” He asked. Albus could see that he hadn’t slept a wink since coming back from Grandma’s house, not that he could blame him. He sensed that Dad had casted privacy charms on the kitchen after Grandma had left, but he hadn’t pried. He was sure he knew what it was about when Scorpius finally came out, grabbing one of the quilts and curling too close to the fire, only a few feet away from being burned himself. James, ever the big brother, had stopped what he was doing and had curled around him, blabbering about quidditch until the white knuckled grip had turned into something less hostile.

“I just thought you could use a heads-up before we go to Diagon alley.” He said, shifting a nervous hand through his hair.

That was one thing that he absolutely hated about going out in public. The paparazzi loved his family. More specifically, they loved comparing them to their parents. In everything. Looks, actions, choices, down to the way that they ate, it was bloody ridiculous. Albus got the worst of it, taking after his Dad so much, while James loved the attention, using it to boost himself in the quidditch world. But he also knew what happened when his friends Linden and Gabriel went out. To be more clear, Linden Parkinson and Gabriel Goyle.

He knew how it looked. Quiet, serious little Potter hanging around with Parkinson and Goyle, he might as well have been Draco Malfoy 2.0, according to the media. But that wasn’t the whole truth of it, not really. Linden and Gabriel were really good people, and amazing friends. But the media only focused on their last names, the same way that they only focused on his. They didn’t care that Linden was looking into using shadows as a new form of magical medium, and not just for the dark arts, but everyday magic. They didn’t care that Goyle had already created special architect that could trap anyone that carried traces of black magic on them, which was in use at several pure-blood homes already. The just saw ex-Deatheater children. The only real safe place for any ex Deatheater child was the Leaky Cauldron, where Aunt Hannah and Uncle Neville practiced ‘equality for all’ seriously. In return, Hogwarts, the Slytherin House especially, always made sure that business went well and that fresh supplies were always available to them. If Neville or Hannah knew, they never said.

“Your family, your Dad, ran for a reason. The reputation the Malfoy’s received after the war, well…”

Scorpius leaned up, eyes glowing a soft gold.

“I can take it.”

So he started from the beginning. About a small baby who defeated a dark wizard and was left in an abusive home and eventually came to Hogwarts and the blonde boy who antagonized him at every turn. The struggles and battles that happened every year and how the Malfoy family went from the top of the world to scraping the bottom. He told him about how Draco and his family had turned against Voldemort at the last minute, telling everything they knew about other members and plans and safe houses before being allowed to return to a life of social exile. It wasn’t a week after school ended before Draco Malfoy and Astoria Greengrass, his fiancé that had somehow stayed with him throughout the whole ordeal, had disappeared without a trace. Not even Lucius or Nacrissa Malfoy had known where he would go.

“Until I showed up.” He whispered.

“I just…didn’t want you walking in blind. If they treat you anything like they do us…well…”

“No, no, I understand.” He rubbed a hand through his hair, ruffling the strands a bit.

“My suggestion would be stick close to us and keep the beanies for a bit. The hair is a dead giveaway, but it might not be so bad if you hide it.”

Scorpius shook his head, cracking his back. He hadn’t realized how tense they had been, his shoulders aching. “I’m not ashamed of being my Dad’s son. But I’ll wear the beanie. Al?”

He finally looked up to look Scorpius in the eye.

“Thanks. For telling me the truth. I couldn’t figure out what Potter was so nervous about when Ginny mentioned Diagon Alley.”

He shrugged his shoulders, looking up. The sun was starting to peak over the over the window sill. Merlin, was it already morning?

“Now you know. I better go, Dad will be waking up soon, and I still need to get ready for the day. The media sees me with greasy hair one time and all of a sudden I’m turning into Severus freaking Snape.”

He climbed out of the bed, giving him a meaningful smile before sneaking back into his room. Opening the back of the closet, he got the green sweater and black button up, coupled with dark skinny jeans and his boots. He had learned a long time ago to stop trying to shake the Slytherin image and just go with it.

They wouldn’t let him live it down anyway.


	7. Chapter 7

Diagon Alley was about as busy as was expected. Many Hogwarts students, now off for the summer, took the time to get together and hang out at the usual places, making the market even more crowded than usual. Ginny, however, grew up with two brothers who were very good at finding secret passage ways, and took the lesser traveled means. He did notice that she traveled a bit slower than usual, allowing the wide eyed blonde beside him to look at all of the shops and people.

“We’ll be stopping there for your books.” She said, pointing at the colorful entrance to Flourish and Blotts. “And there’s where we’ll be getting your wand.” She gestured a bit farther down the street to Ollivander’s. “But first, to Gringott’s.”

“To this supposed vault of mine that has some money that I can just take and no questions will be asked because I’m a Malfoy?” Scorpius asked, raising an eyebrow. He still didn’t quite grasp the concept yet, though he would eventually.

Ginny smiled secretly, turning the corner and entering the bank.

Scorpius tried to keep his expression neutral, but the wonder was still there. He had never seen a place so…regal. A vast marble hall stretched before him, with tall desks that rose up from the ground, small men with beady eyes and hooked noses typed and ticked away. What seemed like dozens of heavy wooden doors were behind them, leading to Merlin knew where. They’re weren’t very many windows, but a large double tiered chandelier that let in plenty of light to see, along with torches that lined the white walls as well. Golden accents of other small men with large ears were pictured around them.

“Goblins.” Albus whispered to his unasked question.

Ginny marched up to the table at the very end of the hallway, a white haired goblin waiting for her.

“We would like to access the Malfoy vault, please.”

“Ah, going the legal route this time?” He sneered. Scorpius’s eyes narrowed, fist tightening. Albus had explained that there was some bad blood between Harry and the bank, but that gave no cause for such blatant disrespect.

“I jest, Young Master Malfoy. Brawling won’t be allowed in this bank, thank you.” Though clearly he wasn’t.

“That would imply that you’d have a chance to hit back.”

Ginny tsked softly, reaching behind him to rub down the nape his neck. He didn’t know when she had figured that trick out, but she used it often to calm him. The Goblin introduced himself as Warwick, and took a small sample of his blood, registering it on a small device clipped on to the leather belt.

“So you are. Gimluk, escort this group to the Malfoy vault.”

A younger goblin climbed down from his chair and directed them down a door. It was a sharp contrast between the upstairs and downstairs. They loaded all of them into a cart, and it started rolling down deeper into the underground of the city. It was dimply lit with only torches to light the way every other space. The vaults themselves weren’t uniform, varying in size and shape and even stone material. He didn’t get a very good look, as the cart went very fast, but eventually they did stop in what he would guess would be nine floors down.

Gimluk raised a hand, stroking the door for a minute before asking Scorpius to touch the door at the silver box that showed. He placed his hand, feeling a sharp prick before the stone rolled away to the sides.

“Merlin…” he gasped. Gold. Piles of gold everywhere, strange paintings of people he didn’t recognize and even stranger objects that radiated with power, even though they seemed so simple and plain in appearance. He could hardly take it all in. He carefully made his way through, pulling out a small cloth bag that Ginny let him borrow.

“How much do you think it’ll cost? For the books and stuff? I don’t want to take too much.”

Gimluk seemed surprised at his statement. Ginny told him to grab a handful or two in case. If nothing else, they could return what they didn’t use. He nodded, loading the bag up and hitching it inside of his combat boot.

They left in a similar fashion, though Scorpius kept jiggling his leg to feel the weight of the galleons there.

They’re eyes adjusted to the bright lights above ground and they went out again, not knowing about the alarm that had been set off. A security measure that Lucius and Nacrissa had agreed on, it alerted them that somebody beside themselves had entered the vault. The owl went out with the standard red message. A hundred miles away, a white haired man waited, his face expressionless as he stared into the fire.

Ginny knew that it wouldn’t be long before the media figured out that they were in Diagon Alley. Honestly, she was a bit surprised to find that they had made it all the way to Flourish and Blott’s without any incident. Scorpius was certainly happy, surrounded by books. He insisted on using Hermione’s old textbooks instead of buying new ones, but he grabbed new manuals for them, along with a few others that she knew weren’t on the list.  But he had more than enough for the charges, leaving a very good tip in the jar next door.

“Trying to bribe you way back into the good books, eh?” A man sneered from behind.

“No? She did a good job helping me find the books I needed, and even recommended some that would help me with my potions homework.” Scorpius answered, gesturing to the cashier, face expressionless as the man turned red with embarrassment.  Ginny pulled him a bit closer.

 James went out first, as always, commanding their attention as Albus slunk off from behind with Scorpius, tugging his hat on a bit farther. The next stop was clothes. He insisted on going to the thrift shops for his clothes though.

“Why spend the same amount of money for stuff I have to wait to get tailored when I could just come here and get twice the amount of clothes?”

Lily ran around the shop, trying on dresses and blouses while Scorpius automatically went towards the more practical things. Button ups, jackets, sweaters, things that he could layer together. She started to get the hang of his style though, and helped him pick out a few more things.  Albus threw in some nicer clothes as well, suit pants and vests that he said would come in handy later, while James tossed in more casual option like hoodies and pajamas. The paparazzi continued trying to enter the shop, but the shop keeper, an older man with salt and pepper hair, barred them from coming, casting a few hexes for good measure. She could see the blonde was getting nervous though, silver eyes darting to the door every few minutes as if one of them would come bursting through.

Scorpius paid the man, leaving him a good tip as well. The last place for Scorpius was Ollivander’s, which would be the hardest place to get too, as it was the only place with no shortcut. She tucked the bags into her purse, grabbing Lily’s hand and walked out. They said nothing as the media bombarded them with questions, knowing that asking them to stop did no good. One of them even had the audacity to grab at Albus. A quick flick of his wand sent the man sprawling with snails coming out of his nose.

Ollivander’s Wand Shop hadn’t changed much from when Ginny herself had purchased her wand, although Ollivander’s son had cleaned up the place a bit. It was still a narrow little place, but he had repainted the gold letters over the door, along with the shop’s display. It now displayed several wands, along with a board to the side that explained the different cores, wand lengths and wood types used in the process, for anyone curious enough to read through the contents. The layer of dust and lack of light that seemed to persist had been scrubbed away to clean floors and bright lanterns that hung on the ceiling. However, Ollivander had kept the same system, with thousands of thin boxes lining the shelves and walls. Hermione suspected that they were color coordinated, though Ginny didn’t know for sure.

The small bell rang from the top of the door, shutting out the racket of the shop streets.

“Good afternoon!” a dark haired man said from his place on the rickety stool, smiling through the bags under his eyes. “What can I help you with today?”

Scorpius approached a bit hesitantly. “I would like to buy a wand please.”

“Ah, I see. Very rare for somebody your age not to have one yet…” He commented. The blonde took out a small golden pendant, a glimmering green jewel in the middle glowing gently with stored magic.

The first time she had seen him use it, practicing charms in his room, she had been surprised. The art of concentrating magic into a gem and then using it to cast spells, it was unheard of in England. Scorpius seemed to do it easily enough though, using his hand to do the directed movements in the book.

“I was too young at the time to really concentrate my magic, so Mom’s wand back fired on my often. Dad’s wand wasn’t available, so we made do with the Greengrass Pendent.”

Mr. Ollivander turned it over in his hands, eyes gleaming.

“Yes, haven’t seen this type of practice in years. It strains on the magic though because all of the access magic is taken in by the jewelry itself. I’m not surprised you’re having difficulties with it right now. It already has so much magic inside, it’s practically bursting at the seams!”

He tapped the pendant with his wand, watching the magic swirl around in the air a moment. It was forest green, bright bursts of purple and white and blue drifting in and out. She noted that Scorpius was not affected by the darker green of his own magic, but still jumped at the lighter, more florescent shade.  Mr. Ollivander nodded to himself, walking back a few shelves.

“Perhaps this one.” He murmured, taking out a thin Walnut wand and handing it to him.

The teen rolled it in his hands, flicking it towards the floor. It lit a small fire which was quickly stomped out. They tried a few others, a cedar with dragon core than hissed in his hands, blackthorn with phoenix that burst into displeased yellow sparks. It was after the Aspen’s spell went towards Lily and Scorpius caught the magic itself, letting it burn his palm that a light bulb seemed to go off in the wand maker’s head.

It was darker at the tip fading into a light reddish color at the handle. The handle itself was sturdy, with Celtic designs crisscrossing the sides before ending with the tree of life, stamped on the bunt of it. There was something familiar about the wood, something that sparked her memory.

He swirled it around, and an aurora lighted the air, faintly silver and warm. Scorpius smiled, he’s cheeks warm.

“What’s this one? I like it.”

Mr. Ollivander looked thoughtful, tapping his chin. “You know, Mr. Malfoy, it’s not very often that we sell a Fir wood wand. It’s not a temperamental sort, but it is incredibly difficult to match because of the strength of purpose and power needed to command it. However, it is an extremely resilient wand. My grandfather used to call it, ‘The Survivor’s wand’.”

Scorpius didn’t say much, looking down at the wand and turning it over in his hands.

“Survivor huh?” he chuckled mirthlessly, though he was smiling when he looked back up. “How much I owe you?”

“7 galleons please.”

He paid him, tucking it into his boot as well as the coin purse.

“Fir wood with Unicorn hair 10 ¾ and Stiff.” Mr. Ollivander recited officially.

Ginny nodded, thanking the man before braving the crowd again. You couldn’t apparate in Diagon Alley anymore, and the Daily Prophet office was a bit of a ways away. She could go by herself, let James and Albus take care of the two, but she was hesitant to do so. Scorpius had become even more and more on edge whenever going out of the shops. She and her family had gotten used to the commotion of it all, but Scorpius was a private teen by nature, who certainly did not like people in his face.

“Alright guys. One more stop and we can go to the Leaky Cauldron.” She said, tugging her blazer a bit tighter. Albus sighed, pulling the zippers of his jacket tighter around his chest and steeling his expression into nothing. Albus by far hated the mob the most.

Scorpius’s eyes ticked dangerously before an idea formed. Smirking, he pulled the pendant out from his shirt, turning it in his hand. 

“Accidents happen all of the time when testing new wand, right?”

She nodded, not liking the expression on his face as he twirled the jewelry faster, finally releasing the emerald to spin on its chain.

“Frangere”

A popping erupted from outside, along with several startled cries. She glanced at him, as they walked out, trying to keep her laughter to herself.

He had broken the camera lens. All of them.

“I’m so sorry everyone, you know how it is with new wands.”

Albus hid his own smirk as they strode out, the sound of displeased murmuring from the journalists growing in intensity as Scorpius tugged his hat closer and popped his hood back in place, as he had all day. Unfortunately, somebody had tipped them off at the bank, so they knew who Scorpius was, but they didn’t have a single picture. And between Ginny’s face scrambling charm and the heavy clothes he wore, she doubted that they would at all.

They made a quick stop at the Daily Prophet to drop the article off, in which she refused to have anybody interview him as temporary legal guardian and rushed to the Leaky Cauldron.

Lily collapsed in the chair, tired from all of the running around, but she seemed happy enough, admiring her new clothes. Ginny had bought a few pieces for her as well. Lily took after her Mom, learning to sew and create clothes on her own, but she liked personalizing her own things as well. Besides, it would give her something to keep busy with in the summer. Albus was happy enough with his tailored ones, as well as James. They never really had the knack for knitting or anything like that.

“Hello Ginny!” Hannah called out from behind the counter. “Usual for you and the kids? I’ve already got Harry’s ready, he’s in the back with Neville.”

That’s right, Harry was talking to Neville about Adam’s attempted kidnapping. She nodded her head, putting a finger up.

“And one more! Scorpius, what would you like?”

He glanced up, taking the menu from her hands and flipping it over before walking over the counter to order. Hannah seemed to like him enough, and added it to the ticket.

Harry, hearing Scorpius through the door, knew that he needed to end this pretty soon.

“And you’re sure, the same symbol?”

“Yes, Harry, I’m positive.” He said, tapping his first knuckle against the paper. Just because he had never filed an official report didn’t meant that he didn’t collect evidence like he was supposed to. He may not have been an auror very long, but he still remembered the training for it.

“That’s all I needed. Thanks Neville, for everything.”

“’Course. Merlin, if I had known it was something this big…Doesn’t matter now though, does it? Adam’s safe. So, that’s Malfoy’s boy out there?” He said, looking through the window at the top of the door to glance at the teen scarfing down his food. Albus, who never finished his plate, was putting bits and pieces into his.

“Yes, though he doesn’t act like the boy that I remember.”

“Well, you didn’t see him after the war. Got really quiet after that. We had our differences, but, in the end, I think he changed for the better. I remember him fighting a lot with his parents after. Owl used to swoop in and out like it was the wind itself.”

He vaguely remembered Hermione telling him about it. She had been the only one of the three to really go back to school and actually finish, so he had asked her what she remembered. Apparently, the two boys had developed a tentative sort of relationship at Hogwarts. Neville protected Draco from the Gryffindor’s tripping on their own power and grief after the battle. Draco protected Neville from the Slytherins who were not sorry about what they had done, and were quite angry at Neville for slashing Nagini’s head off. It was never said, but it was implied.

“Draco and his parents were fighting?”

“Oh yea,” he said, “bad! I don’t think Malfoy was comfortable talking about it, but from what I could gather, Lucius never quite got it. I mean, he regretted his actions during the war, but I think for the wrong reasons. Draco didn’t believe in the pure blood shite anymore, but Lucius and his wife still did, at least from what I understood. That’s how Astoria and Draco met. He had asked her to magically prove that he was right, force Lucius to see the truth. That blood didn’t matter when it came to magical potential. I don’t know if they were able, but I do know that Lucius didn’t even listen. Ignored all of it.”

This was certainly news to Harry. Draco had understood he was wrong, in the end, and tried making up for it. But Lucius hadn’t.

Did Draco leave to get away from the war or away from the people who hadn’t learned from it?

“Thanks Neville. We’ve got a lead on the case now, but I wanted to be sure that it was the same guys. The more charges we can get, the better.”

Harry took his order and ate quickly, assuring Scorpius that he would bring more news tonight, but not before he had something concrete.

Hermione had translated the symbol. The twisting tree looking rune for beast was in the standard that they had learned in school. The diamond looking shape had also been a rune, the minimal design carried over from ancient Norse runes. It translated to blood. Together, they roughly translated to blood beast or beast of blood. They had found the same symbol covering most of the maps in McAnderson’s house. How that applied to the pure blood families or what the taken people were being used for Harry wasn’t sure of yet. But it was more than they knew before. More importantly, an Unspeakable had been able to crack the code around some of the maps and lists this morning. So far, it was ingredients for potions, IV’s, tranquilizers, and other medical supplies that left his imagination whirling.

Now that some of McAnderson’s code had been broken, it would be simple enough to get the rest of the patterns and start cracking the remaining codes around the other maps. The ones that they had now led to supplies and store houses, which was a start.

Now they just needed to find where they were hiding there kidnapped subjects.

He kissed Lily, James and Albus on the head before running back with a doggy bag for Ron. If nothing else, they could snack on the leftovers while Harry finally had his turn interrogating the three corrupt Aurors.

He made it back to the ministry, taking the elevators and stopping in the office.

“Hey, brought this for you.” He said, dropping the bag on the corner of Ron’s desk. “I’ll be back after I’m done.”

“Harry! Bit of a problem with that.” He said, coming over the other side of the desk. He motioned him to follow, going into one of the doors that held the holding cells for suspects. It was blindingly white, with standard metal beds magicked to the floor, a sink, and a toilet in the corner. The three cells that Lemmings, Strange and Crockett were being held in was taped off.

“What the bloody-“

Bloody was right. Blood everywhere, in fact. They had held the three together, in hopes that maybe one of them would get so frustrated with the others that they would crack. Instead they had killed one another. Crocket’s lifeless eyes were fixed to the floor, his head bashed into the sink, while Strange was lying across the bed, his throat blue from asphyxiation. But it was Lemmings that caught his attention. He had somehow got a sharp enough object to slash his own throat open. But not before he had cut his hands, the broken diamond written across the wall in an almost maniac fashion. More notably, he’s body was laid beneath the only words in the room.

WE ARE UNFULFILLED.

“What the bloody hell does that mean?” Harry sputtered. Why? What were they hiding?

“We don’t know yet. As of now, McAnderson is our only suspect left, and they found him trying as well. Managed to stop him from taking his own life, but not his tongue. He’s in the medic ward right now, trying to get it reattached.”

Fucking hell. Harry sighed, tousling his hair erratically.

“Ok. Let’s see what we have so far. The Unspeakables have the rest of the maps and lists and such from McAnderson’s house, right? They’re cracking those right now, should be done within the next few days. We already know that we’re doing to have to raid those places, so let’s go ahead and assemble a team. Shacklebolt knows about this?”

“Yea, he knows. He also wants us to see if this phrase is connected with any organizations or gangs in the database, see if we can’t connect them to somebody. This is clearly a much bigger operation than just these four.

“Indefinitely, yea…we’ll need to hit every marked spot at once, so it’s going to need a pretty big team. We’ll need to get trusted individuals, ones we know won’t try and hide evidence or hide the victims again before we can get to them.”

Rom nodded, already thinking of a few people that were qualified for such a high rank mission and could be trusted. He hoped anyway.

“Alright, let get looking into this,” The ginger said, waving a hand over the wall. “WE ARE UNFULFILLED.”              

 


	8. Chapter 8

Something had gone wrong. Scorpius could sense it when Potter came in that night, dragging his feet on the floor and sighing into Ginny’s embrace. It reminded him a bit of how Dad would sometimes hug Mom, like she was the most precious thing in the entire world.

He looked away, focusing on Albus as he told him about Adam Longbottom.

He had pointed him out at the Inn, remembering the name as one of the kids that had almost gotten kidnapped. Adam’s hair was dark and curly, laying gracefully across his forehead with kind brown eyes and a few scars on his arms here and there from boyhood accidents in his Father’s greenhouse. He had a chubby frame, but he carried his weight well, and was obviously not weak by any standard. According to the youngest Potter, between helping in Neville’s green houses and his Mom’s Inn, he could easily lift half of his own weight. They were in separate houses, but they were good friends and helped each other. Albus, like his father, wasn’t very good in herbology while Adam wasn’t good in transfigurations. They tutored each other in order to survive the school year.

Scorpius wasn’t ashamed to admit that he asked out of personal interest.

An owl interrupted their conversation, its sleek black form fluttering through the window and landing on the couch delicately.

“It’s for me!” Albus called, taking the letter tied to it. He pulled a treat out of his pocket to placate the creature while he read, smiling growing wider. Scorpius, a bit hesitantly, scratched the underside of its chin, smiling a bit at the cooing sound it made. He still wasn’t used to owls just flying around, but he could definitely get used to it. If-When Potter succeeded, he could ask Dad about getting one. A puffy owl that liked belly rubs, like Ginny’s little owl.

“Mom!” he twisted around towards the couch where Ginny and James sat, helping him with some of his homework. “It’s still ok for Linden to come over, right?”

“Yes dear. Have you heard from Gabriel yet?”

He bit his lip nervously, but nodded. “Yea, he’s owl came during our lunch at the Leaky Cauldron, remember?”

She nodded again, “Yes, yes, I remember now.”

James snorted a bit. “Don’t know why you didn’t invite them sooner. Gabriel is a good chaser, he could help you with your form.”

“One, you know I don’t play quidditch, so that’s not it. Two, you just want to study his moves for the next match. I know you, James Sirius.”

He smirked, winking at him before returning to his paper. Ginny, apparently, had promised him that he could tag along to the Holy Head Harpies next practice, as long as he had half of his homework done. That was more than enough incentive for him.

Scorpius glanced out the window as the owl flew back with Albus’s note, quickly doing a double take.

“Shit!” He hissed. That explained the ache in his body. Albus quirked an eyebrow, silently asking, but he darted up the stairs, locking his door shut. He gasped, nails scraping the door. Oh, this going to hurt.

A muffled cry echoed throughout the house, followed by a sharp thud on the floor.

“Scorpius!” Ginny called out, rushing up the stairs. “James, get Al and Lily!”

He dropped his quill, grabbing Lily as Albus hopped over the coffee table, heading towards the coat closet.

Ginny prepared her wand, Harry already ready at the door. He nodded, giving the count off before ripping the door from its hinges, and dropping in.

A werewolf was laying on the floor, breathing heavily as the last of its bones clicked into place with a gristly sound. She knew that it’s comically elongated limbs were deceptively quick, despite the awkward way they seemed to hang on its frame. But it looked different from the standard werewolf form they had learned, far different from Lupin’s mangy bare form. Its fur was thin, but clearly there, with a thicker mane protecting the neck, its blonde color nearly silver in the light. The light blonde paws faded into its white underbelly, with a long stripe running from the skull to the end its back.

“What the hell…?” Ginny said, keeping her wand raised. 

It glanced at them both, but didn’t attack. She backed away a bit but it remained docile, stretching its limbs out and howling in relief that the transformation was finally done. It only seemed to really notice them after. It pulled its ears back, trying to look small and unassuming as it laid down on the floor as flat as possible.

“What in the world…?” This went against everything that they had gone over in Hogwarts, everything that Lupin had experienced as a werewolf himself. Cautiously, Harry tucked his wand away, noting that the werewolf relaxed, lolling it’s tongue out of its mouth and bowing its head slightly to both Ginny and Harry before motioning past the door way.

It trotted down the stairs, towards the kitchen and scratched at the back door.

It wanted out.

“Um….” She glanced at Harry, who only shook his head. Neither of them had any idea what to do in this situation. It was insistent though, even trying to pull on the door knob itself, but its fingers weren’t that coordinated.

“Alright, alright!” Ginny snapped, noticing the eager way it nudged at the wood again. “Just…let me put a tracing charm. And I expect you to be back in an hour, well, hour and a half! And no dead animals!”

It was still as she casted her wand at him, calm as it trotted across the porch.  But it exploded to life once it hit the grass, out into the woods before she could even blink.

Harry slumped onto the couch, giving the code word so the kids knew it was safe to come out. James came out first, wand raised in case before going to Ginny first. Albus checked on him while Lily glanced curiously up to stairs.

 “Mom? What happened?” James asked.

“I…Albus, had he mentioned being a werewolf?” Harry asked, glancing at Albus.

Her youngest son shook his head, “No, no I would have remembered that.”

Truth. Albus was a good liar. He liked to keep his cards to himself, but Harry knew his ticks. Albus honestly didn’t know.

“No, he mentioned it. Sort of.”

Ginny turned towards Lily, eye brows furrowed together.

“What do you mean he mentioned it? And why didn’t you tell me?”

She shrugged, getting one of the textbooks that James had been working from.  “When he was looking though James’s textbook, he reached the werewolf chapter and he got really upset, saying it was a load of rubbish. He asked me to give Headmistress McGonagall the ‘real thing’ so we could fix it in the textbook. Most of it didn’t make sense to me, but I kept it” Lily went towards her school bag, pulling out one of her notebooks and flipped through its contents before finally reaching it.

In Scorpius’s small looping handwriting, it read.

_In reference to the werewolf:_

_Despite the recorded accounts in this textbook, the werewolf does not HAVE to be a bloodthirsty beast of primal instinct, as your text book has implied from its vernacular and tone. It is neither a curse nor a blessing, but a shifting of perspective and life that requires adaption and major adjustments. It is certainly not the end of the world should one contact werewolfism._

_Here are some of the facts that your book got correct:_

_An animagus can choose when to change while a werewolf cannot. That part is completely true. However, if a werewolf has a strong enough bond with their wolf, they are able to call upon certain traits or physical attributes that can aid them in times of need. An example would be using wolf sight to see in the dark, or using claws to cut through rope in a time of desperation._

_A werewolf changes during the full moon. This is also true. Werewolves can’t fully transform at any other time of the month, however half transformation can be achieved with enough trust and experience from the bond between human and wolf. This takes many years to achieve though, and is extremely taxing on the body. It’s not really recommended._

_That it. That’s all that your book got correct. Now, let me elaborate on some things that it got completely and irrevocably wrong._

_Not all werewolves carry this mangy looking gray skin with its ribs sticking out of its skin like a corpse. Quite frankly, the werewolf in this photo worries me and needs immediate medical attention. Werewolves come in many different shapes and sizes, just as other wolves do. Depending on the breed of werewolf that bonds with the human, the region that one is living in when infected, or the werewolf biting the human, can change the type of wolf that is given. The coats, thickness of fur, colorings and markings and other such factors will be effected by all three of these reasons, along with genetics and so forth. Werewolves will enact some scars because of the dangers that they can get into, rather by occupation or simple adventures had while in our other state, but not anymore than is typically assumed from the dangerous lifestyle._

_I suppose Werewolfism can be considered a ‘magical illness’ but it really depends upon the perspective of the person. It is a condition, of that I will grant, however it is not the end of the world. Think of it as an addition of ‘self’ instead of a subtraction of ones ‘humanity’. It does require a great deal of adaption in lifestyle however, and can be emotionally taxing. A support system is absolutely necessary, a ‘pack’ if you will.  But werewolfism does not remove one spec of one’s humanity, nor diminish their lifestyle._

_When one is changed into a werewolf, i.e. bitten, there is a wolf in them which is born._

_Getting in touch with your wolf can be difficult as it requires letting go of the thought that you are ‘one’. When one is changed, you are no longer ‘me’ but ‘we’, in permanent partnership with a wolf. Once getting past that idea, your mind will escape to a place in which your wolf feels safest. I won’t put any details down, as every place will be different, but you will know once you have reached it. You will meet with your wolf and simply spend time with it, getting to know its likes and dislikes, where its loyalties lies, its temperament, and how it acts, much like meeting a new friend. More often than not, a wolf and its human will align very closely in loyalties. How it acts is something that humans themselves must get past. Wolfs are not mindless hunting machines, nor do they kill for sport. Wolves are primal however, and must be allowed to do what wolves do, hunt, run, and be in community with other wolves. Wolves are not lone creatures by nature, and therefor neither can a werewolf.  Allowing your wolf to simply run and howl at the moon with others can do wonders for it and yourself. Eventually, after years of forming your bond and developing understanding and trust, you and your wolf can roam the country sides freely without fear of hurting others or yourself._

_However, if one is just starting into this journey, than it is required that one must have an ‘anchor’. A reason that both you and your wolf can agree not to attack others or simply give over to primal aggressive urges. Normally, an anchor is a person, the strongest bonds forming with family members, however close friends can also substitute. The point is, you and your wolf must love them enough to never hurt them. This anchor will direct you both when transformed and find ways to keep you engaged until the moon falls again. But a bond between the effected and wolf is the primary way in which to control oneself on full moons._

_Of course, during the full moon time, you will occasionally engage in urges that were never even considered before. Such examples would be eating raw meat or rolling around in grass and leaves, a personal favorite of mine. But the only time such blood thirsty-ness will occur is if it is encouraged by the environment around you. But it is not required!_

_You will change as you and your wolf become closer. Ideas about scents, people, environments, relationships, friendships, family, they will all shift as the bond blends together. The only constant is one becomes more ‘sociable’, in need of pack and people. It’s in a wolf’s nature, and is now your nature as well. If one is able to attain true harmony with their wolf, becoming ‘we’ completely, they have achieved the peak of their potential._

_I repeat again, since it seems as if the Wizarding World has a problem with Werewolf kind. It is not a disease, curse, or blessing of any sort. It is simply a new way of life in which one must adapt, no different than adjusting to a new child in the family. It can be dangerous, of that I do not deny, but it can also be a great asset as well. I, personally, would not go seeking to become a werewolf, but should one be turned, this is the truth of werewolfism._

Harry ran a hand through his hair. Bonds? Wolves inside of yourself? It didn’t make any sense. But in some ways, it did. It was like finding a compromise. Ginny sighed.

“Ok, we have company coming tomorrow. You all need sleep. Let’s go to bed, and we’ll discuss this all in the morning.”

“But who’s going to wait up for Scorpius?” Albus protested. “I’ll sleep down here. That way, when he comes back, I can open the door and he can curl up on the blankets or something.”

“Not alone you’re not!” James said.

At the end of it, Ginny corralled all of the children into their rooms and decided to stay up herself. She poured herself a cup of tea, laid the crossword out on the table, and resolved to keep her eyes open.

She woke up with moonlight stretching across the table. She glanced at the clock on the wall, silently cursing. How could she fall asleep? And for so long?

But on the floor, he’s long gangly form curled around her youngest son, was Scorpius. He was awake, lightly chewing on one of the bones that they usually kept for Teddy’s dogs while Albus was curled against this thigh, lightly snoring as he slept. The werewolf perked up upon seeing her awake, wagging its fluffy tail. Perfectly fine.

Merlin, how did she not see the tail?

She crept over, sitting down near he’s head.

“You know, this wasn’t exactly what I was expecting for my evening.” She muttered, holding her hand out before petting in-between his ears. It was the strangest thing. Scorpius was usually so adverse to touch. He flinched if Harry or herself reached out, and flat out refused to walk in front of her. But this form of him, it seemed to crave touch. He nuzzled into her hand, laying it’s snout down in her lap. She stretched both hands into the neck, chuckling a bit at the soft whines of happiness coming from him.

“Ah, I wonder if Draco was as cuddly as you are now?”

He growled, shaking his head. Sore subject then, no matter the form he was in.

“I know you couldn’t have possibly known. We haven’t really explained much about the wizarding world. But being a werewolf is a big deal. You have to tell us stuff like this, ok?” She said, rubbing the fur down. “Is this why you’re so restless all the time?”

It shrugged, well, as well as a werewolf could shrug and settled back down, looking content to gnaw on the bone for the rest of the night.

She shook her head, laying on the couch and closing her eyes. She might as well if everybody else was going to.

Morning came and she woke up to see Scorpius dressed in some of his nicer clothes, a nicer pair of jeans and a button up shirt with a pair of suspenders thrown over. She could tell that Albus had helped him get ready, if the blue tie was anything to go by.  The blonde offered her a plate of pancakes and bacon. He must have woken up early this morning. Ginny would have figured that he’d sleep in after running all night. She accepted the plate on the couch as he gingerly took a seat on the low coffee table, looking a bit frazzled.

“I, um, wanted to apologize. Albus explained to me, after I, uh, shifted back, that being a werewolf is kind of a big deal in general, even if Teddy’s father was a werewolf and you were perfectly fine with him. I just kind of figured, because you had dealings with werewolves before...”

She nodded, allowing him to continue.

“At least that book makes sense now…is that really the norm? That skinny thing with scars? I mean, I have scars, but those were from fights and human things, stuff that I did, my wolf has never hurt me! He never would, and quite frankly I’m worried if that’s what your werewolves look like-“

“Scorpius!” She had never seen him babble so nervously. “It’s ok. Lupin, Teddy’s dad, he, well, he never really dealt very well with the werewolf side of himself. It was a much different time and there was a much different attitude about werewolfism that what you presented in that paper.”

He cocked his head, waiting.

She explained the best that she could, eating a bite here and there as her body processed that it was nearly ten and she hadn’t eaten yet.

“I think,” she finished, “If he had had the mindset that you and your father have, learning to bond with his werewolf instead of fighting it, he would have been a lot better. But you and your father’s method, it’s unheard of. In fact, Hermione would probably love to test it out on some of the other werewolves in the registry, if that’s ok?”

“Course, that’s why I wrote it down. Learning to leave the concept of individual self and create the bond is the main goal, but that takes time to build. I might be able to help. If we have time.” He paused. “I don’t want to distract Potter from the case.”

She shook her head, assuring him that it wouldn’t and started cleaning up the kitchen. Linden and Gabriel would be coming over later today, and if she thought that Scorpius looked nervous, Albus looked about ready to scream. He was dressed a perfect gentlemen with dark jeans and his sleeves rolled to the elbows for a casual look, but he’s darting eyes and twitching hands betrayed.

“Albus, chill out!” James snapped, cleaning his plate and throwing it in the cabinet. “There not even coming over until lunch. What do you think it going to happen? Honestly, you guys are going to go over those weird projects you’ve been working on for Merlin knows how long and be general dorks. Nothing to it!”

Albus had tried explaining it to her once. Albus, along with a handful of other students, now had personal projects that they worked on during the school year like creating new spells, finding new properties into different herbs, or creating new runes. Ginny thought that it was because the war had opened up so many doors into new and different ways of magic that they wanted to explore, which was fine. As long as they were careful.

Albus himself was always fascinated with the Deathly Hallows. Not necessarily in using them, but why they were so powerful in the first place. Harry had lent him the invisibility cloak before, about a year ago, but Albus had little interest in using it. He had taken strands of the thread, tested it, and experimented with it, but wasn’t nearly as sneaky with it as she expected. But it seemed as if having one of the Deathly Hallows wasn’t enough. He had gotten caught a few times looking for the Resurrection stone in the forest, or trying to locate the broken halves of the Elder Wand, but he assured his parents over and over again, he had no interest in using them. He wanted to know why they worked, and why they seemed to work for multiple wizards with no problems. A very unusual concept when it came to magic items. Ginny, however, knew her children very well. Albus liked playing with the edges of the powerful and unknown, seeing how far he could go into the dark before he couldn’t see. It made Harry nervous, but they had both learned that forbidding their children to do anything just made them push harder.

Linden was the first to arrive. She had met him before, she realized, as she shook his hand.  He was one of the few Slytherins who would sit beside Albus while he cheered for James at quidditch matches. He wasn’t a big fan himself, but he liked the atmosphere of the place. She understood very little about his personal ‘project’. Deatheaters had used the shadows as a way to travel in-between places, cheating the apparition wards. Linden was trying to see if he could find that in-between place that they traveled through. He had gotten close, summoning a creature from the dark fabric, but they weren’t able to stabilize the beast into full form before it faded out.

Gabriel Goyle was new to her, and he looked less like his father than she would have thought. He was broad, with a wide nose and hard jawline. The messy style he sported made it seem like he just brushed though his hair before coming. However, unlike his father, he carried himself less like a gorilla and more like a human being. He’s hands were rough as he shook hers, but he’s eyes were kind enough, settling down at the table and pulling out his charts. He liked architecture, more specifically, statues. He was trying to make sentient creatures from stone and wood. Man-made magical creatures. Ginny wasn’t sure if it was even possible, making a creature from stone and giving it a genuine will to live and decide, however, Gabriel had made the most headway into his project. He had a small gargoyle named Joan that ran across the table, grabbing quills and ink jars and passing them around.

“It’s close, but not really there.” He explained. “She can choose little things, like which quill to pick up or to hold the ink jar while sitting or standing, but she can’t refuse any of my requests. That’s when I’ll know that she is truly her own creation, when she is able to tell me no.”

He smiled, gently petting the stony head before nodding his thanks to her.

Scorpius, a bit hesitant with this new people, simple observed for a time, allowing them to explain their plans and what they intended. He seemed especially interested in Gabriel’s project, throwing in some of his own expertise from working under his father.

“Why do you use shadows?” He asked Linden, as he read over his notes. “I understand that that was the origin point of your research, but it seems as if light would have more energy to work with. Isn’t that the problem, keeping the energy constant?”

“I thought so too, but with light energy, it’s almost as unstable. There’s too much…” He pulled out more forms, the kitchen table quickly becoming overrun with parchments and charts. Ginny shook her head at her youngest son. Chattering away without a care, his previous nerves out the window now that they had been introduced. She could only hope that those same worries didn’t return once Harry returned home.

He had gotten the call last night, leaving a note on the dresser, which was unusual for him. It hadn’t taken the Unspeakables a few days, but a few hours. McAnderson had gotten lazy in his old age, and had put in a very similar code for the other maps than they had anticipated. The locations were known, along with the last place that they had delivered supplies too. That was the most likely place to find Malfoy and the others. Harry had left that night, gathering his team together and preforming the raids early in the morning, the most likely time to catch the kidnappers.

She glanced at Scorpius, wondering if he would be ok at the end of this. Harry told her about the cases, as much as he felt comfortable doing anyway, and she knew that there was a dark mischief going on. The likely hood that the victims taken were being experimented with was a good one. She could only hope that Draco and Astoria still had the mind to remember their son, after all he had done to find them.


	9. Chapter 9

They had pinpointed it down to three different buildings. One abandoned warehouse and two condemned apartment complexes that didn’t garner a lot of attention, perfect for dark dealings. Harry didn’t doubt that, if they waited, they could find more than just one gang doing business here. But they didn’t have time for that. They came for one group in particular.

The team wasn’t the best they could have, but it was from individuals that Harry and Ron or Shacklebolt had trained themselves, trusted individuals who considered the law above their own opinions, which is exactly what the needed. Harry nodded at Ron, who gave the signal. Because of the size of their teams, they had decided on a sneak attack, creeping into the walls and searching through the place.

Harry ducked underneath the garage of the warehouse that they had taken. Ron took the other side, carefully scoping out the area. The place was dingy, dust thickly layering the rusted shelves and tables, the once vibrant steel dull with time. Harry kept his wand lit as he searched for anything, keeping a careful ear out on the coms-piece in his ear. There had been no real way of knowing which building had them, so it was a guess.

Team Fox crackled over the piece in his ear. “We have evidence of dealings of magical items and potions, but nothing clear yet.”

Team Wolf reported the same cracked diamond on one of the walls, but no evidence of life.

“Keep looking” He urged, pushing against the magic in the air. He felt nothing return though. They had to be somewhere around here. Had to. This was the only places that would have enough space for the sheer amount of people.

“Harry!” Ron said, urging him over. He was standing hear a patch of wooden boards that somebody had thrown down over a hole in the floor, but they were rotten, definitely not new. Ron stomped his foot down more firmly, the dull clang of metal echoing back.

No, only magiced to look rotten.

They clambered down to the floor, tearing up the wood until a shiny metal door revealed itself. It was definitely well used, the key pad all but gone.

“What was that number?” Harry murmured, trying a few of the four digit numbers that they had found on the lists. The flashing red button seemed like a siren in his mind, but finally, finally, it turned a bright green. It popped open with a hiss.

Ron had gathered the others and the traveled down the damp stairs and into the darkness. A chill went down Harry’s spine, despite the humidity of the room. The smell of bleach and filtered air hit first, crossing his senses into a tizzy.  But the farther down they went, the more sound registered, dull at first, but growing louder.

They had found a holding room.

Dozens of cages, stacked on top of another for space in the tiny room, reaching up to three stories high. Harry heard the sound of hisses and growls echoing across the room growing louder as they went further into what feels like the lion’s den. Animals? According to McAnderson’s reports, they’re had been no animals brought in.

 “Potter?”

Harry whipped around. In the back of the second cage closest to the door, crawling closer on too long hands, talking through a not quite human mouth, was a familiar face.

“Malfoy?” He whispered, crouching down. He’s hair was long and matted, layers of dirt covering his previously pale skin. His silver eyes were too bright now, but they were still his, all the same.

The cages around him begin rattling a bit, the growling growing into deafening howls. Harry lifted his wand, but Draco shook his head, batting it back down.

“Hold on,” He whispered, moving him to the far end of the cage. Astoria, of course it’s Astoria, comes out from the corner, pressing her too thin face against the bars.

“He’s talking to the others, telling them you’re here to help.” She explained. Harry couldn’t understand a word of it, only hearing the barks and yips of wolf, definitely not a human being. “Potter, I don’t know how you found us, but our son, me and Draco’s-“

“I found him, Astoria. He didn’t give up on you. He’s the reason I found you. I’ll explain later, but I’ve got to get you and the others out though. How do I do that?”

The creatures in the cages, what he had thought were creatures anyway, were people, the victims. But they weren’t right. Pansy’s eyes were twisted into pupil-less gold rings, a pair fangs poking out from her mouth. Prewett, Merlin, he could barely recognize the woman underneath. Her skin was gold, spotted in dark circles. She was unable to stand on two feet, her upper body massive compared to the legs underneath. A tail flicked behind her in an agitated manner, waiting on him like a beast of prey. More people came up to the bars as Draco barked and rumbled.

“Focus Potter.” Astoria urged. “The scientists, researchers, whatever they are, they’re currently running their tests on the two new arrivals. The walls have been soundproofed, nobody can hear us in this room, including them. You don’t have to worry about that. What you do need is the yellow keycard. It unlocks all of the cages.”

Harry looked back at Ron, who nodded, taking a few of their party and heading towards the door. Ron tossed him a neon yellow pass. “The idiots hung it on the wall. Call the medics, and get our other teams down here. We’re going to need a lot of people to get all of this out of here before ‘big brother’ comes in.”

“Right.” He sent out his patronus, bounding away as he slid the yellow card into the slot. A satisfying click ran off, and Draco padded out, still using all fours.

“Potter, be careful. Some of the members here, they’ve been mixed too many times. They know not to hurt you or your team, but they aren’t exactly human anymore.”

 “Draco, I don’t know what that means!” He whispered, moving onto the next cage. “I don’t even know what this operation is.”

Draco huffed, muttering softly to the crackling man with a sharp eyes and forked tongue as he ripped the lock off. The other teams had apparated in, moving him up the stairs and into the medical tents.

“We don’t know all the specifics ourselves. No sense telling the subjects I guess. But we do know that our DNA has been mixed with other magical creatures. We don’t know why or even how. There was a lot of tranquilizers.”

Harry popped open the next cage, vaguely recognizing the man that stepped out. He was as tall and thin as he remembered, but his hair was gray now. He’s breath froze the bars down with actual ice before Harry finally placed him from the data base. Travers.

Travers yanked him into the cage, a sea of ice pouring from his mouth. A bright flash of neon light shot out and he dropped to the floor lifelessly. Harry barely caught a glimpse of a man in a white coat before the room went mad.

The women that had shared Travers’ cage skittered out on spider legs attached to her spine, spitting venom at the man. She yanked him off of his feet, fangs extended.

“No! You can’t kill them! If you kill them, we can’t figure out who’s behind all of this! It won’t end with you!”

The woman glanced back, her four eyes glaring murder. She tossed the man against the opposite wall, but did not kill him. More men in white coats came forward, dawning the masks with that blasted cracked diamond and started firing.

But Draco and Harry continued freeing as many creatures as they could, ushering the ones that couldn’t fight to the upper levels and those that could all too eager to get revenge.

Harry couldn’t tell what some of these creatures were. A shadow woman, with no form or shape, came sludging through the bars, eyes fading in and out as she leaned against another four armed man. By the time that Harry climbed to the third floor of the cages, the fight was over. The victims held their captors down, Ron placing handcuffs on each one.

“Harry, we have a few on the tables. Bastards pulled a magic bomb out, managed to blind us enough to pull this stunt. Didn’t work out to well for ‘em though!”

Harry nodded, grabbing all of the keycards he could.

“Draco, go ahead and get to the medics, both of you. I’ll get the others.”

“No way, Potter.” He limped, resisting the urge to lick his wounds. “They won’t trust you; they’ll just think you’re a new scientist. They’ll kill you before you can even get the binds off.”

Astoria came along as well, the hallway slightly cramped with all three of them, but much calmer, now that the fight was over.

Harry eventually found the correct key, sliding it down before the familiar stench of blood and bleach wafted through. Draco growled lowly, but kept his fangs in check as they padded through.

The two closest to him were by far the healthiest he had seen so far. Anubis, no doubt, was another kind of werewolf of some sort, his dark hair contrasting sharply with his yellow silted eyes. The crook of his arm was branded with a flail and Harry finally realized that the marks around his eyes weren’t dirt, but markings of his own. His ‘brother’ was another cross of some kind, if the bright feathered wings pinned back were anything to by. His head was shaved, with small electrodes that Harry carefully peeled off and he’s eyes were stained with a crude reedition of the Eye of Horus. Horus, appropriately named from his chart, seemed to be the only one able to speak.

“This is unexpected.” The bald child whispered as he gently undid the elastic straps on his hands. “Does this mean we have to go back to the previous facility we were at?”

Draco talked softly to the others, a dark haired man with a cow tail and hollow back and another boy with strange dotted marks under his red eyes and along his sides, wincing in pain as fire sprang from his twitching hands.

“No. No, you’re not going back.” Harry promised, picking up the tranquilized Anubis and leading the rest of the party out of the lab. More people started pouring into the room, the specialists that Ron and he had called in.

Harry knew that this was far more than what they had been looking for. More horrible than what they imagined. He guarded the entrance to the medic tents, occasionally checking in on those that he did know and telling them about what happened to their families. Many of them asked about children or loved ones, and he told them as much as he knew. But many of the victims he didn’t recognize. This was beyond the original fourteen that they had started with. But he did the best he could, promising to find them, once they got names and other information put into the system to do some tracing.

At the end of it, they counted 37 victims, along with at least eight scientists that were leading the experiments. Lemmings, Strange, and Crockett had been contacted by McAnderson and paid a small fortune for providing ‘subjects’ and hiding evidence of the kidnappings, along with the added bonus of getting revenge on the pure-blood community for their crimes in WWII.

The scientists were taken back to the Auror station, but not before they explained a few things.

They worked for an organization called the Unfulfilled, specifically, the beast department. They had requested to run riskier and more radical experiments to test if magical monsters and magical persons could fuse together, given the right circumstances. The organization denied them, so they had decided to go off on their own. Harry read through their experiments, feeling the pit of his stomach sinking with every word.

They had taken a member of the remaining descendants of the Sacred 28 that could handle physical and psychological strain to see if there blood adapted more easily to the magical properties of magical creatures.  Seeing the success from the first few subjects, they had continued, trying different heritages and blood types, muggle-born, half-bloods, even muggles. At the end of it, they had theorized creating a whole new species of creature, not quite animal or human, but both. They tried to justify themselves, but Harry shook his head, promising that they would pay for their crimes before hauling them off none to gently.

Draco had changed Astoria before they could try anything with her DNA, and the werewolf took so much that the scientists hadn’t been able to do anything. The others, however, hadn’t been so lucky.

Many were barely even human, some were not even capable of human speech anymore. Draco translated most of their grunts and moans, but even Harry knew that it would take months of genetic and magical therapy before any of them would be capable of walking around a hospital floor, much less go home. There was a lot of damage to go over; a lot of healing that Harry wasn’t sure could be done with stitches and shots.

However, they seemed better than what the charts had predicted in the files. Draco had had his werewolf infliction before, and seemed to adapt his technique of control over to the different forms that the others had now. They still had their minds. They were still in control over themselves, instead of giving into their primal urges.

They were transported into a secret wing of St. Mongos once the life threatening injuries had been care of. Harry and Ron stayed, collecting the information needed for the ones that they could identify. The others would have to be put into the universal database to identify, once they could get their human faces back together again.

Harry sighed, glancing over at the additions to their files along with the pictures. How was he supposed to explain this to the families? They had never experienced anything like this before.

“Potter.”

Draco’s face had shrunk down to a more normal structure, though it was as sharp as ever. He sat down in the plastic chair, his legs still too long, his claws still out.

“You said that Scorpius had helped you find us. What happened to him? After-After we were-“

Harry laughed mirthlessly, telling him what he did know. About a high-born child who was evaded CPS, escaped to the wild streets and preferred sleeping on floors over beds. He told him about the fights he got in for scraps of meat, and how he taught kids to fight off attackers, and how he had never given up finding the two of them, the police reports and private detectives. He told him about a determined intelligent boy who worked on his magic even though he didn’t have to and did his homework, because he wanted to make his Mom happy when he found them. He told them about a boy who helped Albus with his Astronomy homework and played exploding snaps with Lily and raced James in the sky.

By the end, Draco had hid his face in his hands. Harry ignored the soft sniffing sounds, telling him that he would bring him as soon as they would allow it. But they both knew that nothing could really keep him away.

* * *

 

Harry collected what information he could from the victims, as they waited to become stable enough for loved ones to visit. Anything that they could remember from they’re time in captivity about the group called the Unfulfilled.

The Unfulfilled were a group of scientists, wizards and witches who came together to test and enhance the true potential of humanity and magic kind. What made a wizard, if magic could be given to a muggle, the true capabilities of beasts and magical creatures, to name a few things he had been told. They’re were rumors that presidents and ministers from other countries funded them, even some supporters inside of the Ministry of Magic itself, but Harry couldn’t know for sure, and they hadn’t heard that much in their drug induced states on the metal tables, the only times that the scientists talked over them.

The scientists that they had caught had been small fish compared to the shark tank that they had yet to find.

They victims were finally allowed to have visitors nearly two months after they had been found. As it turned out, their DNA adjusted just as well to the genetic therapy as it did the beast experiments. For most, this was as human as they would ever become again. Draco continued teaching his technique of dealing with the magical creatures that he had created in captivity, along with Astoria. Scorpius had eventually been brought in as well. Even though the two techniques weren’t exact, the concept was roughly the same.  Astoria explained that the coping technique that Scorpius had developed allowed for him and his wolf to become so coordinated that there was no separation, which is why he wasn’t afraid when he transformed. However, it also allowed the two personalities to blend into one, which could be dangerous depending on the monster inside. But it was going well so far. And with so many people teaching them how to control their new instincts, it allowed more visitors to come.

Pansy, mixed with the DNA of a Grim, would maintain her yellow eyes and thick black hair that refused to be tamed or even cut. But they had stabilized her form enough to the point she wouldn’t fade away from sight and her ears only showed if she willed them. Linden had no reservations about running to her, nor crying that he had missed her.

There were several others, of course.

Maria Abbot, Hannah’s cousin, in some twisted sense of irony, had been injected with a dementor. How this was possible, not even the Doctor’s in the hospital could explain, however, they had changed the biology as much as they could, instead allowing her to take the most painful memories a person had, instead of the happy ones. It wasn’t much, but it was the best that they could do. Her eyes were as pale as her skin, but she maintained her smile somehow. Maria had been Bearglove’s head of house at a minor school called Lavaeudeen in America, and her mentor, an elderly old woman by Mrs. Claymore flew in to see her and tell her everything that had happened while she was gone. Several gifts from her students were also brought with her, including a particularly good jar of honey she had shared.

Bulstrode had been mixed with a Yeti, her large bulky frame growing nearly seven foot now. Her skin was ice cold, no matter how many warming spells were placed, but she could not feel it. Her hair was solid white as well, and she tended to forget her lower fangs that stuck out of her bottom lip. But Maddock didn’t care. Last he had seen those two, Maddock was telling her about one of the fights in his long record at school. She seemed proud.

Cara Burke had been mixed with acromanutals, Hagrid’s giant spiders. She had been impregnated in the cells, though they weren’t sure who the father was or if it was another part of their twisted experiments. The pregnancy made the hospital staff hesitant to perform the more aggressive genetic therapy, but they had found a safe route. Her spider legs were retracted back into her body and after some physical therapy, her human legs became slightly functional again, though she would use a wheel chair for a long time. Her eyes were split into four, and the small hairs all over her body would never really fade, but it was all things she could work with. She immediately took a liking to Benedict, who visited with Mr. and Mrs. Burke.

Peony Carrow had been injected with a lethifold, a variation of the dementor that was much more violent. She appeared the most normal, if not for the fact that her teeth were as sharp as needles, and her feet never touched the ground. She seemed to float along in some unknown form of locomotion. She had been afraid she’d hurt her mother, but Flora and Hestia didn’t fear her. She had been one of the last to adapt to the training and therapy, and therefore one of the last to get visitors. Flora and Hestia were patient though, and, once inside, she rocked her baby as Peony cried. Harry pretended to not see.

MacMillan and Nott had banded together while in captivity. MacMillan had been infused with an Erkling. Usually a harmless little thing, it had morphed into something lethal in Ernie, with sharp ears and tongue, and eyes that seemed too wide. Nott himself had been mixed with a similar creature, the Huldra. He’s back was covered in thick bark like scales that couldn’t be removed, and he hid his teeth with a grimace. Both of them had to be careful when they spoke, for fear of accidently entrancing others and had to be careful around silver. They had learned that the hard way. But Nott’s daughter, a Gryffindor with an amputated left leg, seemed happy enough to have two father’s now. Harry could honestly say that he had never in a thousand years seen those two getting together.

Flint and Fawley were by far the most touching of the visits. Flint had been infused with an Ashwinder while Fawley had been mixed with the Occamy. Flint was practically a living coal, with grayish skin that was hot to the touch and Fawley now had a massive pair of wings that stretched across his husband’s shoulders without fear of being burned. Sarah had brushed her father’s wings with care, laughing as Marcel yelled down the hallway that his wheelchair was too freaking slow as he raced to the room. Mara had picked him up and placed him on the bed. The couple had been devastated about what had happened to their children, but they had lived. Harry reminded them that they had lived, and that was what counted.

There were others, of course, as the pieced together who was who and who needed to be called. But Harry, at that point, had been pulled back into the station with news.

The scientists that they had caught had been under interrogation for weeks now, and were slowly giving away information with every day. Harry felt that they would have gotten what they really needed after a few more days, after one of them had cracked.

But they were dead now.

They had been found in their cells hours after, seemingly all suffering from a massive shared brain aneurysm. Autopsies had been done and they had found a small silver device inside of their skulls that had gotten passed their initial screenings. A short electric current from those had sent their only leads to the Unfulfilled to the graveyard.

What disturbed Harry was the fact that the devices could only be activated from within one hundred yards. Whoever the Unfulfilled were, they still had people on the inside of the ministry.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“Damnit…”

Shacklebolt nodded gravely, looking down at the bodies on the slabs of metal.

“We’re going to continue looking into them. See if their names can trace back to other members, or if something in their lives outside of this twisted lab experiment can lead us to the group. We’ll find them again Potter. But we have to look at what we have accomplished. The victims have been found, families reunited, and Scorpius isn’t the only one who has his parents back. I’d call that a successful day.”

He nodded, smiling through the window as Draco and his son wrestled out on the open lawn.

“Yea, I guess. But I’m not done.”

And all was well.

For now.


End file.
